


The Face of Death: A Tale of Sun Hunters

by Daedamnatus



Category: The Strain (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Characters, Blood and Gore, Combat, F/M, Flashbacks, Inconsequential Strigoi Fun, Infection, Nuclear Winter, Post-Apocalypse, Self-Defense, Strigoi sex, The Ancients Live, Unusual Use of Quinlan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daedamnatus/pseuds/Daedamnatus
Summary: Sun Hunters are soldiers, dedicating their immortal lives to preserve balance on earth. They can never infect humans. While humans are their allies, they must swear loyalty to the Ancients, or spend eternity in exile.Two security officers, a bitter survivalist and his coworker friend prepare to face the strigoi outbreak in New York. Noticed by the Sun Hunters, they must make life-changing choices.





	1. Fresh Blood

 Chapter 1: Fresh blood 

 

The red-dot sight of the Scorpion Evo3 assault rifle moved from one window to another, curtains torn and ripped to show only darkness in the vacant apartment building. It has been this way for months, the outbreak having taken most of Manhattan and the few survivors had fled.

Lex aimed at the rooftop, using his enhanced visor for reconnaissance. Duz was posted there and, holding the rifle with his right hand, gave him a discrete wave with his left. He caught sight of the red surrounding the black mask and goggles under the protective hood of his jacket. It was how he'd spot his team mates, in the beginning. Now he could hear them, and he could smell them.

Adjusting his seat at the window on an opposing apartment, he shot another look over his shoulder to make sure the door behind him was secure and blocked with the desk he had moved earlier. A strong scent of rotten fish emanated from the dead strigoi sprawled on the floor.

Going back to check on the street below, movement drew his sight. White hairless skulls were coming out of the basement hatch. Two, then three. Soon, a dozen strigoi scoured the road, going north. They wouldn't be going very far. A few seconds rolled and he heard the faint suppressed gun fire that took down the turned.

Keeping his aim downward, Lex exhaled briefly as he raised his masked gaze at Duz. The other Sun Hunter mimicked him, then his barrel directed towards Lex.

He held his breath, felt his own heartbeat. And then he heard the sound coming from the hallway behind the door.

Two - no, three pairs of feet pattered the wooden floors, coming near his position.

The footsteps stopped suddenly before they reached his barricade. The other sound was more subtle but he heard it. The growl of hunger, the clicks and snaps of anticipation behind clenched fangs.

Lex used the fire escape outside, feeling only a slight change of temperature as his layers of combat armor blocked the cold winter breeze. He slung his rifle in his back, brought a foot up on the railing, and propelled himself with agility. A short leap from the railing to the next platform allowed him to breach the neighboring window. Looking through his infrared visors he found the place empty, as he'd already cleared it. Moving across a child's bedroom he quickly navigated the abandoned home and made his way back to his observation post. The three strigoi sent out to hunt him were now clawing and banging at the door, raging maniacally with screeches and livid black-red eyes.

Lex discharged his weapon, the shot muzzled by a silencer, downed two of them before the third moved, leaping to the ground on all fours like a feline. It used to be female. Locks of dark hair still clung to its livid scalp. Hissing and screaming, the newly turned strigoi braced itself to charge at him.

His position compromised, Lex wanted nothing more but to get this night behind him and give his report.

The stinger sprung out of the rabid face of a dead person, giving him a handle he used as a rope to pull his attacker close. He was now the attacker. His tactical boot met the creature’s chin with a thud, slamming fangs through the base of its stinger, cutting it clean off. Clean being a manner of speech. The ensuing screams would draw in more of them and he had to make sure to clear the area before getting outnumbered.

Making efficient use of his ammo, his knife was in hand then through one of the strigoi’s eye socket.

He didn't expect to hear anything else before at least a minute.

Something or someone cried upstairs, a desperate whimper but not faint enough, and his primal instinct to investigate distracted him from the dying mess, emptying it's white entrails, spilling a pool of worms. Carefully stepping over the corpse, rifle ready, Lex proceeded upstairs. The whimper had increased.

The smells of ammonia were dissipating but he still heard the low rumble of a stinger in the chest of a nearby strigoi.

Heat markers were behind a few dry walls and the main apartment door was already open. If someone was alive in there, he had to make sure they were safe.

Or Duz would, too.

He found the hunter in the cluttered kitchen with his pistol in hand. Standing straight, shoulders relaxed confirmed what was inside the fridge.

Lex smiled behind his mask. “Fresh dinner?”

Duz let out a discrete chuckle in his comm piece before grabbing the door handle, his pistol held up to shoot if the person inside would act out on them.

The fridge door swung open and they found a crouched male, in his forties, perhaps younger. He was more skin than muscle and his voice was no deeper than that of a goat. He held up his hands with terror in his bulging eyes.

Lex shushed him before any sound would come out of his gaping mouth, pointing his rifle down before dragging him out by the collar.

Duz did nothing to suppress the dual tone in his voice. “It will cost us more to feed him.”

“The night is young,” Lex agreed. “Maybe leave him here for later, just in case.”

There were the sounds of strigoi converging on them below. Duz seemed to take interest in something outside the window. There was that call, the link Lex missed.

“Please!” the weak man begged on his knees, still held tightly by the collar. “Don't leave me here to these things. I'll spend the night at the station, I'll work for food. I don't care anymore!”

Duz and Lex looked at each other.

“Work, huh?” asked Duz before he pulled out from his belt a set of plastic restrains. “We'll see about that.”

Once gagged with tape found in the kitchen drawers, the man was stuffed back in the fridge. Lex joined Duz in the living room, facing the entrance where strigoi were about to appear. Arming his assault rifle, he shot a quick glance at his partner.

Duz craned his neck sideways, softly popping a vertebrae. At a century old, he didn't twitch erratically like his younger brothers. Lex smiled when he used one of his catchphrases.

“Party time.”

The first wave was shot square on the forehead. Gunfire deafened everyone. The strigoi coming second stumped upon the corpses and fell forward.

 

The entire neighborhood was cleared by dawn. His ammo clips were almost empty and he had chipped the tip of his tactical knife somewhere in the commotion. Duz and Yonn joined him out in the shaded alley as the first light of morning failed to warm the rooftops. Three men with covered heads were lead out firmly towards their vehicles and locked up. On two other blocks, the other teams were coordinating back to their hideout.

Walking towards the main road to give one last inspection of the battlefield town, Lex allowed himself to sigh, feeling the adrenaline drop. Their stingers trilled and clicked in a quiet understanding. Lex also felt hungry but was relieved that his comrades were unscathed. The faded sunlight hit their hooded armor, rendering them impervious to UV damage had there been no clouds.

“They… are confident,” Yonn commented with effort to Lex. “Still spreading.”

“We're going to need more hunters,” he bitterly replied. “And more daywalkers.”

He'd voiced his opinion to the Ancients before, only to be met with silence. Procrastination, he thought. Duz shifted his stance, flexing his gloved fists. He watched the two other SUVs come out from the other street, heading back to base.

“They caught four mortals,” he said and acquiesced at Lex. “I think we're doing fine with just you.”

Confirmed by a quick switch of his infrared filter, Lex nodded as he counted the four heat signatures in the running vehicles. It was getting too bright for infrared which almost made his eyes water. He checked his wristwatch: 6:36 am.

“We should turn in, people are waking up.”

 

The backseat of the SUV was cramped with the captured prey in addition to the Sun Hunters tasked to provide drink for the Ancients. Lex resisted the urge to remove his gloves or his mask, his combat uniform had stains of strigoi blood and the smell of ammonia clung to the fabric. The ride back to base was never short enough before he could peel off the heavy protections and shower thoroughly.

“Where are you taking us?” pleaded one of the captures. An older male picked up from a basement.

“Quiet,” growled Lex, holding his CZ 75 Shadow pistol on his lap.

“You're not like them…” Even blind and held at gunpoint the old man was stubborn, Lex should have suspected it. “You want us alive, for what?”

He ignored the question and watched through the window the unclean streets of Manhattan in the long-term aftermath of the nuclear blast. Derelict citizens were out and about, scavenging early morning hoping not to get attacked by their fellow mortals.

Lex stepped out of the vehicle last and pulled out two oblivious men with black bags over their heads. He took in a breath when his commander walked up to him in the garage. Hood down, black eyes barely registering the prisoners as they were being taken away by Duz and Yonn. He stopped in front of Lex, hands joined at his belt.

“Taking it easy out there, Hunter?”

Lex never knew which footing to take when facing Vaun. Between authority and sympathetic banter, Lex preferred to maintain a respectful distance. He removed his mask and hood and kept his head high, standing at attention less than affirming himself.

“You know me, I'm cheap with ammo.”

The Ancients could see everything the strigoi saw. And Vaun had a direct connection to that feed. No matter to Lex, he had dealt with every threat so his job was done as far as he was concerned.

“The economy should be the last thing on your mind, you're not an underpaid guard anymore.” He pinched his lips at the smirk Vaun made. _Once a slave, always a slave_ , Lex liked to remind himself. After a moment, Vaun turned and gestured for him to follow. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

He expected new gear, something advanced perhaps scavenged from fallen Navy SEAL soldiers in the underground galleries of New York City. That’s where their squad communication systems came from ever since Lex joined the Sun Hunters.

They reached the living quarters and he stopped at the door of Vaun’s personal room. He accessed his weapons locker and Lex waited until Vaun looked sideways to let him in. He pulled out a rolled up map. Lex raised a blond eyebrow over his blue eyes. Worry lines creased his still young forehead.

“The food processing facility?”

“If you want to call that food,” Vaun pointed a gloved finger near the center of the schematic. “It's an industrial lab turning people into docile blood packets.”

Lex had tasted a tiny bit of the “Freedom bars” that the citizens were being force-fed in exchange for blood. It wasn't great but supposedly kept everyone healthy, and obedient.

“Sabotage, then.”

“Something like that. Gus is working closely with produce supply.”

Lex remembered the former Sun Hunter. He had watched him train and work with Vaun and Quinlan. The man had had his uses, connections more specifically, but he was too much of a wildcard to be trusted.

Ever since the nuclear attack the Sun Hunters and the Ancients had been secluding themselves, only coming out of their haven for feeding. Lex felt it was time to patch things up with their old allies if they wanted hope for change.

He took a deep breath, thoughtfully tapping his fingers on his holster. He had been underground for so long, making himself known would jeopardize them.

“So we need someone up there to work with him.”

“Someone trustworthy,” Vaun raised his head, insisting. “You need to get your friend back on board.”

He felt a dip in his stomach at the mention. They hadn't seen eye to eye on the matter of cooperating with strigoi which caused the long silence. All contact was lost after the blast.

“Is she alive?”

“Yes… Luckily she is not B-type. She was assigned to security duty at the baby farming prison.”

Lex bitterly smiled. “That's a relief. So, when I contact her and if I convince her, will she stay with us afterwards?”

He was concerned that having a woman among his fellow hunters would disrupt their work. His work. Gwen was a friend, but he knew her to stir trouble against all figures of authority… In a way, he hoped that the Freedom bars wouldn't alter that side of her.

Vaun stared as though he could sense the inner workings of his mind. Perhaps just as well from his shift in mood, his slight perspiration and lightly pressed heart rate. He rolled up the map and held the tube of paper to tap his flak vest.

“Think with your head, Lex. If she wants to be safe and vows her allegiance then she can stay. Nevertheless that's a question that I'll bring up to the Ancients.”

“Naturally. I wouldn't want to upset the balance of our brotherhood.”

Vaun pinched his emaciated lips together, still studying his expression. “You've proven your worth and learned much, but I have no use for a Sun Hunter who will lose his mind over a girl.”

He looked right back at the dark red eyes with something he thought wasn't too defiant. He had earned Vaun’s respect after long months of trials. Now was not the time to waste it all.

“I'm gonna need a new ID, clearance passes for checkpoints, and one of those _I gave blood today_ stickers.”

“Already working on it,” confidently replied Vaun. “And you make yourself look human again. I thought it was Lar back there.”

Lex couldn't refrain from laughing. With all of Lar’s earnest strigoi loyalty he was one of the less facially corrupt, almost an attractive member of their group. With his head buzzed to almost baldness because of the thick layers of hood and balaclava mask, Lex did emulate his strigoi comrades’ features.

He had found a sense of belonging among them. And it had been less than a year ago.


	2. Ground Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year ago...

Chapter 2: Ground zero

 

“You know things are bad when you see so much red.”

Gwen stood in front of the flight schedule with all departures cancelled, status blinking in red from top to bottom. She dug her hands in the pockets of her trousers, wearing the same TSA uniform as his, her black hair usually so neatly tied in a bun had rogue strands flowing around her oval face. The checkpoint was deserted save for her and Lex, their shift ending at 5 am, management had required them to man their post despite the terminal having been evacuated.

All screens were offline aside from the flight schedule. The airport manager had decided it was best to keep everyone in the dark to avoid panic.

Pure precautions, they were told, since no details were released about flight 753 from Berlin to Regis. Holding up his phone to check on random Twitter updates with #JFK or #Flight753, he was beginning to feel restless.

Gwen looked over her shoulder and snickered. “Remember when Clark got suspended for doing that one evening?”

“Yes,” he absent-mindedly answered, leaning against the conveyor belt, ignoring video surveillance or disciplinary action. “Wanna hear some conspiracy theories?”

It was passed midnight. The chime of the biometric badging system rang and both snapped up towards the walk-through metal detector and body scanner. One of the Post Authority Police officers came through triggering all the alarms of the metal detection door. They ignored it. Lex pocketed his smartphone and nodded to greet the cop for the tenth time that night. His face was livid.

“You guys suck,” he grunted with a forced smile. “I hope you'll get paid overtime for this.”

Shrugging, Gwen returning his expression. “It's a planned schedule, emergency or not. We'll be allowed to bail at five.”

Terry - Lex never learned his last name, and didn't care for it - glanced at his phone upon receiving a text. He sighed and checked his watch.

“CDC is working on quarantine procedures, they talked about maximum containment… For some kind of virus.”

Lex blinked. A biohazard threat.

“So did anyone from the plane come in contact with ground staff?”

He realized as he spoke that it was a really specific and security-threatening question. Each personnel equipped with a clearance badge could easily come and go from one side of the terminal to the other. So far, the actual security was done by police forces at departure level, keeping press and family, relatives away from sensitive areas.

The cop shrugged, dumbfounded.

“Beats me, I just make sure no one uses this opportunity to start shit. Kind of like you guys.”

Lex directed his azure glare towards the checkpoint. He'd spent ten years operating the X-ray machines, searching bags, giving pat downs. None of it was of any use against a virus. None of them, despite doing their job as best as they could, had any impact on keeping the country - the world - safe from a bio-weapon.

“So, in other words,” Lex thought aloud, “were sitting ducks for a potential lethal disease flying from Europe.”

Gwen began to fret as she nervously scratched the back of her neck. “Well it's a good thing my parents are asleep or I wouldn't hear the end of it.”

Lex tried to reassure her with a smirk. “Still, you should send them a text to let them know you're okay.”

“He's right,” Terry approved. “If this escalates the networks will get overloaded. Look, I'll ring your post if something new comes up.”

With that he went on his way to the boarding gates.

“They're always shitting their pants,” she said, watching Terry jog away.

“Do you have anything stored in your locker?”

Her narrow eyelids went even narrower as she eyed him suspiciously.

“Matter of fact, Lex, no. I totally didn't bring my winter coat and hat and gloves, I got here like this, and I don't even have my car keys. One wonders how I even got into my vehicle this afternoon.”

“That means you'll need to make up some story and leave first while I stay a little longer here, make it seem legit.”

“Stop being so paranoid,” she reassuringly told him. “Whatever disease this is, we're not affected. It's not like we're those idiots in Berlin, having checked each passenger and sent them to their impending doom.” She paused and pulled out her phone to begin texting. “I don't want to be them tomorrow. Pretty sure the whole security agency is getting the hammer for this. The airline, even. ”

He watched her tap her screen at an elevated speed, he was taller and he wondered how fast she could run.

Or climb over a fence.

His mind wandered as he fumbled with the set of keys at his belt.

“Do you think we'll have to clock in tomorrow?” she idly asked. “It doesn't sound like the situation will be resolved overnight.”

“It's going to be like when the volcano erupted in Iceland… When was that again? 2010?”

She shook her head, lost in thought. “Ashes in the sky can be avoided… But someone who is infected in Berlin can infect anyone, anywhere. For all we know, it's already spreading and we're telling ourselves we have the situation under control.”

“It's like playing chess with just one pawn,” he agreed, strangely optimistic that they were able to talk about things without dramatising. “And assuming the other player is doing the same.”

Gwen scratched the side of her neck, her crossed arms hinting at her growing anxiety. “Just imagine if this was intentional for one minute.”

“I've gotten so used to thinking about ways for someone to fuck with our country, it already sounds familiar.”

They could hear commotion coming from beyond the security line, police officers were shouting for angry people to step back.

“We can't bail on them, the cops I mean.”

He looked back at his coworker, his friend, and something in his mind tugged at his stomach.

“If they get stepped on, we will get crushed.”

Unlike their comrades on the platform, TSA officers carried no weapon, no taser, no bulletproof vest. Only a pair of gloves and a walkie.

Well, except for Lex. He'd taken the habit of coming to work sneaking a micro pepper spray keychain and a pen-style kubotan for self-defense and glass breaching. His martial arts savviness and practicing of Russian Spetsnaz combat technique, along with other members of the civilian security forces, granted him unspoken status among his peers at JFK.

His past squabbles with former members of the eastern european mafia had taken him down an ambush, and while he was purged of all charges he had looked Death in the eye. He was merely twenty-five when that happened. Ten years later, lessons were learned. He prepared each day for payback, some form of revenge to spite life itself.

“I'm not worried,” asserted Gwen, giving him an up-and-down look. “If you stay, I'm not going to risk burning calories running, and tripping over abandoned luggage.”

“Speaking of that, we should probably sort those out, clean up the mess around the boarding gates.”

Without a second thought, they proceeded to leaving the checkpoint and wander about to gather the forgotten and leftover bags from panicked passengers.

“I should have guessed you were anxious to clean something.”

He shot back at her an amused look. “In the Soviet Union streets didn't clean themselves. People were fined if they didn't maintain tidy sidewalks and fences.”

“I know, you told me about Minsk. But this is ‘Murrica. We're free to be messy and stupid.”

The bay windows with a view of the tarmac weren't directed towards Flight 753, he didn't even seen any first responders or emergency vehicles. All planes were grounded. Even empty, they were vulnerable, metric tons of kerosene sitting around, waiting to be consumed or evaporated in numbers of ways.

Once the boarding hall was sorted, they sat down on the VIP couches to rest for a minute, walkies online in case Terry had news for them.

“When was the last time you flew anywhere?” asked Gwen.

“Three years ago. To Vancouver, to attend a convention.”

“A _systema_ convention?” she smirked.

He snickered at her. “A _various means to self-defense_ convention.”

“Ah, so like a shopping mall for you.”

She made light of everything, not knowing or not assuming what really went on in his mind. He couldn't deny the tension growing between them lately, even though out of the three hundred TSA officers she was one of the few he liked best. They rarely worked on the same post at the same time, and for once when he thought they were lucky to share a night shift, this event had had to occur.

“What about you, when was your last travel?”

“Too long ago,” she inspected her nails before picking at them. “I went to visit friends in Orlando. Almost got hit by hurricane Ike on the way back. It was a rather humbling sight.”

“Is that why you haven't flown ever since?”

“No,” she rested her elbows upon her knees. “After buying my house I can barely afford to feed myself.”

“Wise decision. Buying a house, in this economy. Banks granted you a loan, with our wages?”

“I guess I got lucky.”

The night flew by as they chatted. But eventually the end of their shift was near and they received word of Terry: the whole airport grounds were on lockdown. Something about missing cargo. All personnel were to get through a bottleneck checkpoint upon exiting.

Leaving the terminal was a new ordeal, after their long shift and longing to lay down and relax. People were crowding the entrance area, going to anyone with a badge for answers about their relatives aboard flight 753. At best they were tired and anguished, but some had rage on their faces, shouting their despair at the employed personnel.

Concealing their uniform under  black cold weather jackets, Lex and Gwen walked briskly towards the door. He lowered his head, watching the tips of his non-regulation combat boots as they strode off towards the parking lot.

“We made it,” Gwen sighed and they stopped, halted by police checks. “TSA,” brandishing her badge and ID, she stood in front of the cop while he flashed her face with his light.

Lex showed his own papers, saying nothing. The cop looked even more exhausted than they were.

“Long night, huh?”

They could hope to sleep that morning. Or even the following day or night. Lex made a mental note of resupplying on coffee.

And food.

When they got to the car park, Gwen pulled out her phone, her expression still and somewhat sad.

“Well, time to sit in traffic jams at this ungodly hour.”

“You have my number,” he reminded, “let me know if there's anything.”

She squinted at him before giving a suspicious pout. “I might.”

He could tell she was tired and eager to go to bed.

Leaving behind the thought of talking to her on the phone he reached his car and followed the line of exiting airport staff vehicle to get searched and identified. He drove a black Hyundai sedan, not very large and inconspicuous, and he hoped he wouldn't have to pop his glove compartment.

It took half an hour to get to his turn to be checked. The cop flashed him in the face, inspecting his badge and driver's license.

“Alexej Havlik. What is that? Russian?”

“Czech. My family came here when I was two.”

He almost jokingly offered to show his birth certificate.

“Alright, pop the trunk and step out of the vehicle.”

The PAPD officer was evidently too tired for politeness. Lex obediently stepped out and walked by his car while his trunk was being inspected.

Then he heard barking. The sniffer dog two rows next to them had smelled something suspicious in a white CDC van and everyone looked. Suddenly a short man in plain clothes approached the police officer, looked at a card, said something and dismissed the truck driver.

Lex lowered his brow and watched the suspicious van roll away in the night. The man who had waived the security check was now briskly walking out of the checkpoint zone. Had he come out here specifically for this?

“All clear here,” the cop said, pulling Lex out of his thoughts. He handed him back his documents. “Drive safe.”

 

He headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge, hoping to somehow recognize the white van that had been cleared without inspection, following his gut as he took the fast lane.

Eventually, he found it. It drove towards a secluded place that was nothing like a government building. There were no other CDC or authority vehicles around. He parked his car around the corner of an alley and the truck entered a private car park. Lex pulled out his phone from his jacket and committed the GPS location to memory.

It was 6:36 am. He would have come home by now without all of this trouble. There would have been nothing on his mind except sleep. Keeping his beams out, he drove away and turn on his lights when reaching the main street.

He woke up the following afternoon and went about his day. Exercising, eating, searching the news for word on the virus. Still nothing, now it was all about carbon monoxide poisoning. He cleaned up his place, sorted and reviewed his knives, batons and guns locked away in a wall safe.

He got a call from management asking him to stay home and check his schedule online for updates. All flights were grounded. Very well, he thought. For once a sane decision was in effect.

As night time came, he started hearing sirens. Nothing out of the ordinary in New York. Homeless men shouted their rage at each other outside his apartment window, they were mostly drunk, and certainly mentally ill. He distracted himself by lifting weights, reading an article about recent pandemics in Europe due to mass migrations from Africa. Germany had imported millions of them recently. Flight 753 came from Berlin. It all made sense.

He took his black cargo pants, fleece hat, thick black jacket, telescopic baton at his belt and tactical knife in his pocket, grabbed a grocery shopping bag and headed out in the night. The convenience store was almost empty and he bought over a hundred dollars worth of long-lasting perishables, dry food, rice, water, spare batteries, underwear, socks and of course coffee in large quantities. He stored it all in his car and moved to a drug store. The pharmacist at the cashier desk eyed him suspiciously when he brought his basket of anti-inflammatories, iodine tablets, surgical masks, latex gloves, nasal spray for the epinephrine and vitamins.

When coming back to his car parked on the street he heard men talking in the back before walking towards him. Their tone were malicious. He stored his shopping bag and as he shut the passenger door, Lex held his keychain in hand.

The distinctive sound of the cocking handgun and a round sliding into the chamber sparked his fighting instinct. His concealed hand uncapped the top of his mini pepper spray.

“Put your head down on the roof and hand over your keys,” barked the thug in his back. “Come on, white ass punk!”

He measured his breathing and used his free hand to reach for his hat, pulled it over his face until the three holes in it allowed him to see and breathe comfortably.

“What the… Don't you play with me, boy!”

The gun hit his head with the muzzle, and just as he turned around, Lex reached for the extended weapon, drew the arm aside and punched a fist full of keys square on the mugger’s nose. Two other pistols flared and aimed at him as his other assailants sprung into feigned excitement, but Lex smelled their fear. A short spray of teargas incapacitated the first, screaming and crying as he tried to wipe his face, then his gun was free for Lex to use for his own defense. One other courageous street thug was already running, the other was shaking in his shoes and had to hold his weapon with both hands.

“You crazy, man! You can't do that!”

He smirked beneath his balaclava, stood straight, securing his aim at the black man's left eye. “I just did.”

The last mugger almost drooled with panic and indecision before he took off and ran after his friend. Lex looked down at the first, still agonizing.

“Military-grade pepper spray doesn't come off easily, seek help,” commented Lex, popping the clip from the pistol and discharging the engaged round before stepping over the man’s body to walk around his car. He dropped the gun and ammunition into one of the shopping bags. “And do something else with your life. This… is extremely boring.”

When he drove off in a moderate speed, he pulled off his balaclava and took a breath, letting the adrenaline clear from his body while he went back home.

 

The week flew by and he was now aware that almost all the passengers of the Berlin plane had mysteriously died, and only a handful survived. No quarantine measures had come in effect and he went back to work. People were leaving for the holidays, resuming their postponed vacations, eager to find their relatives off state. He watched and heard a lot of coughing and low-grade fevers running around. Soon enough, a couple of his coworkers were coming down with those symptoms.

He'd caught the flu at the workplace once due to the lack of maintenance on climate control through the terminal, but that was years ago and now it was starting again. He used his gloves for everything, from touching people's belongings to operating the scanners. He kept to himself, greeted his coworkers from afar, avoided shaking hands. Everyone knew him to be slightly paranoid. Most agreed that it made sense to be cautious. Most did not heed his advices and still took stupid risks with hygiene.

He was back home, six days after the 753 incident. Then he heard sirens early in the afternoon. People coughed right outside his window and he was on the fourth floor, he couldn't fear that germs might climb that high.

He was running out of rice, pasta and other commodities like spices that he'd forgotten the other week. It was still early when he decided to go down the first convenient store to grab the missing ingredients. When he was out and about, he almost got shoved aside by a bulky man in a green coat, running from something.

It was a woman and she wasn't wearing any pants, at first she looked tired but her running and energetic screeching made him think otherwise. Her hair was falling out at places, her mouth was stretched on he sides, her tongue… was thicker than usual. It split at the middle, extending a second appendage, her face almost like the underbelly of an octopus or calamari. It sprung out, shooting itself several feet ahead as she lunged and Lex backed away abruptly into the convenience store. He watched with morbid fascination as the “tongue” plunged into the man's neck, gorging itself rhythmically as the woman stood over him, curled up madly like a predator.

Only then did he notice people screaming all around, running in pure panic and other more brave bystanders pulled out their phones to film the scene. The man in green was being sucked dry, and not in a good way. His face turned ashen, sunken cheeks and eye sockets indicated there was no more blood in him. The woman responsible for this had her plunger retracting within her throat, then she turned her red eyes towards him. Lex held the glass door blocked with his foot while he reached for his tactical knife.

“What are you doing?” yelled the cashier. “I'm calling the police!”

The door was closed but Lex felt the full force of the woman as she tried to smash it open with her weight. If she broke the door the shards would injure him, she would still attempt to do… whatever she had just done to that poor bugger, and she didn't seem in the mood to negotiate. Other people trapped inside the store were staring, stunned with fear and incapable of rational thought. Lex ignored them, only thought of whatever he could do to de-escalate this crisis. As he looked up, the crazy, sick woman looked back then her mouth snapped open for her plunger to give a loud and sloppy smack against the glass pane. He took his chance.

He swung the door open and she fell to her side, losing balance. Lex held his knife in a slashing motion, cutting clean the parasitic worm that was coming out of her mouth. She bled out a white substance that hit his gloves and sleeves. He backed away instantly, shaking off moving organisms that looked like silver tenia worms that wiggled and moved towards him on the tile floor. Lex stepped on them. But the wounded woman was crawling up and growled and gargled up more white stuff and worms. With all the shouting and crying in the store, Lex had trouble thinking.

Then he heard with relief the sweet but deafening sound of a pump-action shotgun. The sick woman's head blew into thousands of pieces all over the floor. White blood and worms flew all over the shelves, the food, and everyone. Lex angrily brushed himself off and tried not to panic, making sure no worms clung to his clothes. He looked around and saw people still screaming and crying, clawing at their own unprotected faces and hands.

“Go to a hospital!” he shouted at them, more angry at the fact that they were too busy being panicked than that they got themselves contaminated. “Now!”

Wasting no more time around the dreadful corpses, Lex ran back to his apartment. Discarded all of his clothes he looked himself in the mirror, breathing deep and slow to keep a clear mind. Fear and stress could cause memory loss, altered perception and lowered reflexes. Aside from his own scars from combat training he found no fresh signs of entry, no puncturing of the skin. He showered, thoroughly scrubbing until he missed no spot. He shaved and trimmed his hair before selecting clean clothes. The used ones were sent straight to the washer. He thought about burning the jacket altogether.

Sitting down on his couch, he took a quiet moment in the dying light of day. He had watched two people die in only 5 minutes he was outside. More sirens, and then screaming could be heard in the distance. He rubbed his palms over his face.

His phone rang and he almost jumped. He had no family, no relatives nearby. His parents had moved to Minnesota a few years ago for the fresh air. Oh how he wished he had moved with them.

He picked up the call from Gwen.

“Lex! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “You?”

“You wouldn't guess what the fuck just happened here. I saw a kid pounce another kid at a toy store, and a fucking leech came out of him and the other kid was bled out! Then some adults started doing it… It's all over the streets now!”

“Are you safe? Did you lock yourself in?”

“Of course,” her voice trembled. “I'm never coming back out there.”

“Have you been to work lately?” He forced his mind to stay focused. “Do you have a fever, or a cough?”

“No… No, definitely not and I know what you're talking about. I saw them, too. Oh my god… Maggy, Fred and Tarek had those.”

“Listen, I need you to stay frosty. Protect yourself, don't go out unless for absolute necessity, and gather all your hardware, anything from sharp tools to blunt objects. One of them came at me earlier but someone with a shotgun blew its brains out.” _Its_. He refrained from correcting himself. “If you manage to get close, be careful. They produce worms that will try to get to you.”

“Okay, okay… “ He waited as she hesitated, it sounded as if she was scavenging for things around her house. “I'm not scared, this is just the nerves.”

He paused for a short moment. “Will you be okay by yourself? Do you want me to come over?”

He felt stupid asking for her opinion. These weren't times for thinking and negotiating. It was life or death.

But he needed her address.

“Okay, I'll text you the address,” she finally agreed.

“I'll be there sometime around eight. I'll grab a few things on the way.”

 

His old jacket being retired and expeditiously disinfected, Lex wore his trench coat he hadn't worn in a decade. It felt tighter around the arms but still large enough to conceal a couple of sidearm holsters. His backpack was full of spare clothes, travel kit, and his duffle bag was full of food. He packed his car as efficiently as possible.

When he started driving down the streets of Brooklyn, he caught a glimpse of what reality was becoming: total chaos. Looting, breaking, mugging, and chasing around with extended mouth plungers. Despite the screaming of his heart to stop and help, Lex kept driving. He avoided burning vehicles and thrown over garbage cans. Pedestrians were getting in his way, but some of them has sunken red eyes and elongated lips as their leech-like feeders tried to go through his windshield.

It felt like he had run over a corpse at some point. Police cars were overrun and growing scarce across town. Now was not the time to do more shopping. He finally reached the condo neighborhood and parked his car next to Gwen's white Prius. She was at the first floor window and watched him come out with his bags before opening the front door. She wore all black clothes, jeans and turtleneck sweater. She had boots on.

Good girl, he thought. Then she'd know if something slithering and white was on her person. He hoped she was aware of all the risks that he himself had trouble fathoming.

Her house was neatly kept, cluttered with furniture and decorations however. Not the type of living arrangement he was used to.

“You had to bring all of this?”

“Be grateful,” he commented, heading towards the windows to pull the curtains and shut the blinds. “I also brought you a few weapons, I can teach you how to wield them.”

“Thanks… so much. You have no idea.”

He stood in front of her, exhaling through his nostrils. “We're not prepared for this. No one is. And it's just the beginning.”

She pinched trembling lips together and she crossed her hands against her breasts. “I lost contact with my parents. I haven't heard from them in three days.”

His jaw muscles twitched. The outbreak had started during his first shift that week, three days ago. If there was hope that they were fine, she would have gone to check on them.

“Gwen, I'm sorry.”

 

He admired that she kept together while they share a living space, being a good host, coworker, friend and student when he taught her self-defense. Another day passed. Another sleepless night as they studied the plague, this disease that turned people into cannibalistic zombies with propelled plunger suckers. They still had the internet as only form of window to the outside. Seeing them up close as he watched from the second floor with binoculars, they had developed sharp front teeth and pointy ears.

Vampires. Or a really fucked up version of them.

They heard shooting on the streets now. People were defending their homes and undead bodies littered the pavement.

More of their friends were still alive, evidently, and were in dire need of assistance. There was no point in being isolated and Lex knew too well how complex people were in groups. He needed them in the long run, even if he hated it, humans are naturally gregarious.

They made good use of daytime to go a few miles across the neighbourhood. Waking at the crack of dawn was no trouble after working weird hours for years. There was still looting going on and he headed into a private car park to enter the building where one of their most trusted friends from work was hiding. It was a rather small apartment house but there was already signs of breaking and entering. They progressed with Gwen's taser and Lex held his old M9 pistol ready. Shards of glass broke under their footsteps in the hallway.

Something growled behind a closed door. A bathroom door. Upon inspecting the lock, Gwen found that it was locked from the inside. A heavy thud accompanied with a screech and throaty clicks made her jump backwards, holding out her taser towards the door.

“Do you think that's Jack?”

“Probably.” He looked around and guarded her six. “In that case, where are his wife and kids?”

“Should we go looking for them?”

Lex inspected the living room and found tipped over lamps, ruffled blankets and a broken vase.

“Looks like they can't work out locks.”

They proceeded upstairs and found the master bedroom empty. Once in the children's room, Gwen gasped and her taser activated suddenly. She had hit a female undead in the forehead, rendering her stunned and flat to the floor. Her sunken red eyes revulsed in their orbits. Soon came two others, smaller this time. Lex aimed his weapon in direction of the closet where they stood, crying out loud with their growly dual voices when they saw their mother.

“Oh shit…” Gwen pulled out the machete she had in her backpack.

They were no longer children. Lex bit his lips and aimed, squeezed the trigger. Once.

Twice. A third time to finish the adult female on the floor.

Gwen uncovered her ears after he was done, having pulled her wool hat over the sides of her head. Each undead had a hole in their forehead. White fluid began to pool on the carpet and the worms revealed themselves.

“See those?”

“Yeah,” Gwen said. “I can't believe it's come to this.”

They went back downstairs and found the door of the bathroom still closed, with what remained of Jack still banging furiously against it.

Lex cocked his gun and took a step back.

“Are you crazy? He’s going to plunge you!”

“Just get that machete ready to cut it short,” he said, then brought up his boot to knock the door out of its lock.

The whole frame was shoddy and got knocked down over Jack's head, sending him tumbling back into the bathtub. The moment was comical if it weren't for the dangerous aspect of their enterprise. Lex went into the bathroom and took aim, shooting former Jack in the head. The body went limp and he turned around before his mind wandered, looking for what was left of his friend in that hideous disfigurement.

“Come on,” Gwen called, nervousness hitting her vocal chords. “Gunfire might wake up more of them in the building.”

They stepped out to the living room and both stood aghast at the presence of four - no, five individuals in black attire. All carrying an automatic weapon drawn and aimed at them. Lex instinctively aimed his gun at the central figure, a rather tall male covered in black from head to toe. His hood was red on the inside. His clothes were combat-ready, with MOLLE attachments and velcro pouches. His rifle, however-

“Put your gun down, son,” he spoke with a certain nonchalant tone, yet authoritative. “You can make this easy or we can wound one of you, carry you out of here the hard way.”

He looked at them more closely. They wore black masks and shades or goggles. Their supposed leader wasn't. His face was of chalk-white, eyes sunken and dark red. Mouth with outstretched corners.

“You're one of them,” he spoke between his teeth. “What do you want from us?”

The undead man slowly shook his head, and held up a gloved hand.

“Not one of _them._  We are here for the same reason as you.”

He felt Gwen's hand over his arm, implying that she was thinking of something.

“How do we know we can trust you?” she asked rather loudly.

The leader tilted his head sideways at her, smirking mockingly.

“You're still alive, aren't you?”

She squared her jaw and took a step forward, her machete still in hand. Lex knew her tenacity in dealing with people, not afraid to stand in the middle of conflict.

The leader stood his ground even though she got closer, they could all hear the rattling growl in his chest. He looked down and she faced him directly, as if to show she didn't care about the other four with their rifles up at her.

“If you're not planning on killing us, then you're going to use us. What do we gain from that?”

He shifted his stance, holding his rifle to his side as he eyed her almost compassionately before looking over at Lex.

“The survival of your species.”

 

 


	3. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Parternership looks after its own, except when it comes to servants with blood deficiencies. 
> 
> Gwen reaches a decisive moment in her life for the second time as Lex finds her to help the Sun Hunters.

Chapter 3: Purpose

  
  


It was supposed to be warm outside, sunny. Nature was put to sleep without sunlight all over the continent. She'd kept her thick jacket all through the spring and now summer… Nuclear winter lasted forever, it seemed. 

She put her utility belt down on the bench and sat for a minute in the locker room, having clocked out, ready to head home. She rubbed her hands together, massaging the dried and damaged skin on her fingers. Jannet from the reception desk had rushed out already, having to pick up food for her children. Gwen was still by herself. Because of her position and work schedule she had no time to devote to having a family. Life was still normal and not much changed for her. 

It should have been some form of comfort, at the very least. 

_ Everything _ changed except her. She had simply been moved, her house repossessed, her job transformed and her qualifications recycled. But as a person, she was still serving a corporation, a system that fed on fear and actual blood. Her purpose, her worth was the same. 

Her small apartment was three blocks away that she walked under light snowfall. Her toes were numb in the used boots she wore. At least the elevator still worked. Her door on the fifth floor creaked after she'd turned her keys in the lock. She put her backpack on the floor and closed up, almost feeling the darkness surrounding her as she turned the lock again. She dropped the keys in the bowl on the nearby table. She exhaled deeply, and the dark of night seemed to be more quiet than usual. She turned and, with her finger on the light switch, felt her heart jump at the sight of a hooded figure next to her window. It stood before she could react walking towards her. 

“Hey!” she shouted, turning the lights on, she hurriedly grabbed her keychain to toss it at the figure which caught the item in hand before it hit its crotch area. 

Gwen dashed towards the kitchen on the left, but behind that door she was physically blocked by a second dark figure, a male dressed in black. Combat gloves caught her by the shoulders and she gasped as she was put in a neck hold, one of the man's hands covered her mouth before she could scream. He smelled like metal and gunpowder. The first man heavily stepped in front of her again and she could see the lower part of his face. Pale skin, lips turned downward. Gwen tried to focus on her posture and wiggled slightly. 

Lowering her center of gravity, she dipped and elbowed her assailant in the crotch and it only made him strengthen his grasp on her. She could hear his deep voice chuckling. He didn't feel any pain down there. 

Strigoi. 

The one facing her had a hand over his sidearm, bringing up his other in a sign of appeasement, he slowly pulled back his hood. Gwen's eyes widened as she watched the man reveal himself. 

He'd completely shaved his head, his thick layer of blond hair was gone to a fuzz and his bright blue eyes were a shade darker. His face was skinnier than she remembered. But it was him. 

Relaxing her shoulders, she was allowed to speak, finally. 

“Lex!”

She grabbed the other's hand away from her face and struggled to get out of his hold and he did not fight. She turned to scowl at him. He wore a mask and black shades. 

“We didn't know how you would react,” Lex quietly spoke, throwing her keys back in their bowl. 

“No shit,” she sighed, her heart still racing. She had locked all the windows. “How did you find me? Wait…” She looked at him and as he tilted his head to one side, waiting for her to finish. Something looked off in him. “Is this what you’ve been doing, all this time?”

He seemed to register her accusation with a bitter nod, looking down before fixing his piercing eyes on her. Gwen chewed her molars. 

“I see you’ve kept busy yourself,” he motioned at her black uniform and special red and black arm band.

Her heart dipped in her chest and she wanted to scream out her deep anguish at him. The strigoi hunter still stood closely beside her, watching her every move. She had grown used to that for the past nine months. 

“It’s survival,” she said, keeping her voice level. “At least I’m not hiding from the world.”

Lex eyed his partner and his shoulders heaved before he turned towards the living room. Gwen hesitantly followed him. Her hands itched but she fought not to scratch at the eczema. 

“Sit,” he told her as he took place in the seat facing the sofa. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Gwen sighed and complied. It was like Lex to take command and while she disliked that in him, she had nothing better to offer. She'd normally get out of her uniform and in her pajamas at this hour. She would open an old book and read until she'd fall asleep. 

“I barely recognize you,” she said, looking at his stern face. He didn't look tired, it was something else. Another kind of burden loomed over his eyes. “Why wait so long before coming to find me?”

She instantly regretted sounding so desperate. The strigoi stood beside them. He looked back at her, then at Lex who gestured for him to sit as well.

“You remember Duz,” he introduced.

Sitting on the far end of the couch, Duz, got comfortable and removed his mask and shades. He had the typical white skin of strigoi, but his face had a few deep scars, his red eyes had the same piercing look as Lex. He muttered with an annoyed smirk. 

“The security in your home is… lacking.”

“Of course, it is. It's not my home.”

“You pay rent,” Duz snapped back. “That's how we tracked you down.”

She crossed her legs and meshed her fingers on her lap. Her heart beat accelerated slightly at the idea of being investigated by a very sentient strigoi. 

“It's good to see you too, Duz.”

She heard purring under the layers of armor and black clothes. His eyes lingered on her but he gave no reply. 

“The Sun Hunters were nearly wiped out after the attack on the Ancients,” Lex began. “We had to regroup and build up our numbers before we could let ourselves be seen again… Before  _ I _ could be seen again.”

Gwen watched him speak in silence, this man she thought she knew after their long chats at the workplace for several years. She had missed him and now she wondered if she had truly known him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of this alone,” he added.

“You made your choice,” she said, “and I made my own. But it’s in the past now.” She made herself aware of Duz watching the exchange. “Thanks for checking up on me.”

Lex brought his eyes down before looking up again, and it was Duz who spoke. His voice was quieter, the inflexion caught her off guard.

“We’re here to offer you a second chance to work with us. You have eyes on the inside and the Partnership trusts you.”

She worked with strigoi for the Partnership, she wasn’t used to them speaking let alone give advice and make decisions. Worse than guard dogs, sickly contagious spawns only motivated by blood. But the Sun Hunters were something else entirely. Vaun was the first she came to know and he was smarter than most humans she had met in her life. She understood why Lex chose to stay with them. 

It was hope that made her leave to find her family. It was the loss of hope that made her surrender to the enemy in the end. Humans were so easily swayed, manipulated, corrupted. Despite her principles and faith in the future, she had watched herself be reduced to a tool to help enslave other women.

“I’ll do it,” she answered affirmatively. “I know access codes to security sectors, patrol schedules, and a lot of dirt on human employees. Can you use that?”

Chuckling, Lex leaned back into his seat. “Just like the good old times.”

“It was far from this exciting,” she agreed with bittersweet nostalgia. “But I guess we weren't wasting our time after all.”

“We were preparing for the outbreak for much longer,” Duz bluntly interfered. “Your work at JFK was meaningless, just as pointless as comedic acting.”

The bewildered look she shared with Lex was one-sided but Lex was first to laugh off the insult. 

“What’s it to you?” she shot at Duz, who satisfyingly smiled as he brought a foot over his knee. “I doubt you run your mouth that much in front of your bosses.”

“I make observations when deemed appropriate.”

“Holy cow,” she laughed. “Okay, I didn't expect you to be this comfortable around me. Or… whatever this situation is.”

Lex brought his gloved hands together in a concluding clap. “Alright, let's cut this short because we've got planning to do.”

“I was merely stressing the fact that your former partner did not properly train for war.”

Gwen threw her hands up in surrender. She got to her feet. 

“If that's how the night is gonna be, I better make some tea or something…” 

She went into the kitchen, leaving the Sun Hunters on their own. There was a limit to what amount of criticism she could stomach from uninvited guests, former coworker or not. Friend or not. As she put the kettle on the stove she reflected on her relationship with Lex, how they'd first bonded over martial arts, weaponry that she was only familiar with thanks to video games she used to be fond of. 

She had heard vague rumors about his past, that he had been beaten down by a group of thugs and left for dead in the streets. She had never dared ask the question herself. Even though she had enjoyed spending time with Lex during work, there was always that hint of a doubt. The instinctive warning in the back of her mind to stay away. 

The water came to a boil at the moment she realized she may yet have to make a decision regarding her safety. She prepared tea, hearing the two men conversing in hushed tones in her living room and she wondered how much of her he told to his new friends. She brought two mugs of hot tea that she set on the coffee table. 

“I apologize to you, Duz. I'm low on blood count for today.”

He nodded in compliance and very likely understanding the partial truth. Gwen had chronic anemia, which came in handy to skip donating at the blood bank now and then. Strigoi could smell abnormal blood types, and evidently could detect defects and diseases. It made her less susceptible to get stung. 

Lex held his cup while rummaging in a pocket of his cargo pants. 

“Here's what we need from you: there's a wireless receiver on this card, just keep it in your wallet to work.” She took the small plastic sheet from him. “Every time you'll operate a security terminal or card reader it will imprint the identifications and combinations automatically.”

“Smart. And I thought I would be trying to sneak you passed video surveillance or something.”

“Not so fast. First, you'll carry this for a week and try to cover as much ground as possible throughout the compound.”

“I'm supposed to stay at my station at given hours, Lex. I can't visit every building for no good reason. Not on my own, anyway.”

“You'll figure out a way,” he said, intently staring at her. “Neither I nor Duz can wander out here without drawing attention. You're our best hope to get reconnaissance of otherwise sealed off areas.”

She thought of slipping the card into someone else's pocket, who had clearance for other sectors but the risk was too big of never retrieving the receiver. 

“What if something goes wrong, how do I contact you?”

There were no cell phones, no internet, no pager they could use for communication. Lex shook his head. 

“They could trace a signal back to us. After what happened before we can't risk even the slightest misstep.”

Duz leaned over his knees, joining his fingertips. “We won't be far should you run into trouble.”

“Thanks, I appreciate.” She took a sip of tea, letting her thoughts wander. “But how will you know where I will be?”

“As long as you have a heartbeat, I will find you.”

“Yeah, that's not creepy at all.”

Duz narrowed his eyes. “I just offered to shadow you for the duration of your task.”

“Oh.” She blanked her face and sat up straight. “Then, that's very kind of you.”

“Duz looked after me when I joined the Sun Hunters,” Lex told as he put down his cup and stood. “You're in good hands.”

She stood by as they went towards the window. “What about Vaun?” she asked with curiosity. 

He looked down for a split second before answering. “Vaun protects the Ancients now. We lead the hunt.”

“Well…  Congrats, I guess.” She watched Lex take in a breath as he unclipped a mask from the back of his belt. She opened the nearby window. “Maybe give me some kind of warning next time you sneak in?”

Both now wore their masks and shades, Duz being only slightly shorter than Lex, she could barely tell them apart. 

“We could let you know in advance,” Lex said with a slightly muffled voice, “but it wouldn't be very ninja.”

She laughed more out of nervousness than at the joke. She covered her mouth and the words stumbled in her mind, she couldn't keep her eyes open or keep them dry. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Lex tried to give her a reassuring touch but she only saw a stranger with no face. He spoke softly. 

“We're counting on you.”

 

The next morning was difficult to wrap her mind around work, her back pocket felt heavier than usual when the plastic card weighed next to nothing. She clocked in at the breeding facility. And checked the registry to see if any trouble had occurred during the night shift. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

Gwen made her rounds from the lavatories to the dining area, lobby, private rooms and the maternity ward. She made little conversation with the people there, mostly women, and the few men hired as her coworkers were there to take dissident women away. It happened more frequently than expected, despite all the comfort, fresh produce to eat and entertainment. 

Gwen put on a hard face and stayed away from all sorts of conflict. She knew the patients were kept against their will, but she also knew the basement tunnels and where every staircase lead to. If she spoke, someone would try to take advantage of her credentials. 

That afternoon she checked downstairs to the laundry room. The washing machines were in cycle and there was a nurse sitting nearby, doing crosswords. Gwen gave a polite nod as she walked by and progressed into the dim lit labyrinth. 

Using her flashlight, she checked that all doors were secured, used her card only once to pass through to an elevator. 

She waited for the cabin to come down and when it finally appeared, the elevator was packed with strigoi. They wore black gowns of plastic, growled and hissed as they saw her. 

Gwen lowered her flashlight and stepped aside for them to slowly walk by her. These were the slaves working at the fifth floor, she had never gone there since she didn't have the code. These drones had no pockets, she couldn't use them for recon work and she wasn't sure she could recognise which one was what or who. They all looked rather fat, a clue that they'd been recently turned. Older strigoi were lean from consuming only blood. 

Once upstairs again she accessed the observation room with the video feeds, said hello to Gerry the security guard in charge of surveillance and grabbed herself a cup of coffee from the breakfast table behind him. He was reading a book and not paying attention at the screens. An ordinary morning. 

“It's like watching plants grow,” she commented. 

“I heard there was commotion in the bathroom last night,” Gerry said, not raising his eyes from his reading. “No cameras there. One of the girls had a miscarriage.”

“Shit happens.”

“So compassionate, Gwen. You don't run that kind of risks, do you?”

“Consider me like a robot from that Terminator TV show.”

“I don't know that and it's not in the media library.”

“Of course not…”

She gave up on the bland chit-chat and took her coffee somewhere else. There was no balcony for fear that the inmates - patients - would try to escape or commit suicide. Being cooped up didn't help Gwen's nerves. She sat at the reception desk and tried to think of the past night. 

Lex remembered her, he had convinced his team to reach out to her in spite of her refusal to work for them before it all went pear-shaped. The Ancients scared her, but after seeing the type of monsters that she was now serving her choice was easy. 

The day couldn't last any longer as she watched the hours roll by. She knew all of the magazines and books in the lobby, and practiced remembering her favorite songs in silence. This place of artificial comfort was an insult to the reality of the world where people starved and were bled each day. Her constant frown of disgust helped, no one wanted to chat with her. 

It was finally time to clock out. She went for the back exit and braced herself as she met the strigoi guard next to the door. He wore an all black uniform with a helmet and mask. His dark, sunken eyes and white skin were unmistakable. It didn't speak, ever. It watched her closely as she signed off on the registry and badged at the terminal, she heard the soft rattle of its stinger. It was hungry and tired of feeding on small blood packets. Even with her low red cell count she looked like a tasty meal for him.

“No, my dude. I'm not going on a date with you tonight.”

She smirked at her own humor, lightly pushing the strigoi out of her way. She'd met insisting co-workers in the past, she was glad this one wore a muzzle. 

She brought home a small pack of supplies, some instant coffee, vitamins, toilet paper. There used to be a fridge in her house, but here there was no fridge at all. In her kitchen-

“Oh, Jesus!”

The armed to the teeth, black-clad figure came out from where the fridge used to be and tilted its hooded head to one side before removing his mask. She picked up her few supplies from the tiles, still cursing. 

“I hope you know CPR if you're going to do this every night.”

Duz produced a chuckle. “I thought you would be expecting me.”

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “But you planned to startle me anyway.” She sighed to catch her breath. “And Lex?”

“He is needed for a different task. It's just me tonight.”

“How does it work, by the way? You guys follow a schedule?”

He picked up the bottle of multivitamins on the counter, reading the label. 

“Something like that.”

Gwen felt uneasy having a rogue strigoi in her apartment. She needed sleep. 

“I didn't lose the card, if that's what you were going to ask.”

She pulled out the small black card and fumbled it between her fingers before stowing back in her pocket. She pondered suing a second layer within her clothes to better conceal it. 

“I'm here for your security,” Duz said, letting himself lean against the counter, crossing his arms against his flak vest. “I didn't fail to notice you were being followed.”

The guard at the facility. Perhaps it fancied her more than she'd suspected. 

“Was it strigoi?”

Duz did not answer immediately and unfolded his arms before walking past her towards the door. “You need better training.”

Pouting at his interfering in her daily life, she kept a comment to herself. He was right, she had grown lazy, for lack of a better term. She found him in the same spot he was sitting the night before. Gwen took the seat facing him, where Lex had been. 

“I can't guarantee your survival if you aren't careful.” He paused, his fists clenching over his lap. “You came very close to a concentration of them, I can smell it on your uniform.”

The group of fat slaves coming down to the basement. She nodded, furrowing her brow at how precise was his sense of smell. 

“There is a processing facility on the fifth floor,” she explained. “I've never been there but I can see strigoi coming and going there, wearing waterproof suits.”

His black eyes studied her, his voice went a tone deeper. “What kind of processing?”

“I'll have to figure it out.”

“Be very careful, Gwen,” he slowly spoke to her. 

Nodding once more, she couldn't decipher his look of concern or confusion. Either way, he seemed genuine in wanting to keep her safe. It was strange, it hadn't happened to her in a long time. 

He stood and turned and she heard him grumbling, perhaps irritated by her lack of response. Duz moved the couch across the room until it blocked the front door. It barely took any effort from him. 

“Are they close?” she worried, standing to look out the window. She saw nothing between the different apartment buildings. 

“Not for now,” he answered and met her in the middle of the cleared space. “Come, show me what you can do.”

Eyes widening, she considered for one second his stance with feet placed at shoulder length and arms to his sides next to a holstered pistol and a long knife at his belt. He was much taller than she, and in much better shape.

Starting by circling him, he moved in accordance, shoulders relaxed. She tried to recall what Lex had briefly taught her before. 

“You have weapons and armor,” she remarked. “I wouldn't pick a fight with you.”

“How fast can you run?” he calmly asked. “For how long?”

“I hate running.”

He took a pace aside and she moved away, too late. He caught her arm and made her lose her balance. Swearing between her teeth, she struggled to stay upright even though he held her in an arm lock. 

“Your free arm,” he murmured in her ear. “Use it?”

Fighting to keep breathing, she blindly searched and found what she needed. She caught a handle and pulled up. Soon she held a blade that she held against the upper part of his body, meeting his chin. 

“Good.” He grabbed her other wrist and twisted it until she reluctantly dropped his knife. It made a heavy thud sound on the wood floor. “Never hesitate.”

He let go of her and she spun, holding her pained wrist, catching her breath.

“You're saying I should have cut you?”

He picked up his silver blade, spun it in his gloved palm and holstered it. “I wouldn't have allowed it. I would have taken some distance and released you… Your mercy made me win this round.”

“Precaution,” she corrected. “I don't want to spill any worms on myself today.”

He blinked and smiled. “You won't.” 

She shrugged, attempting confidence. “Accidents happen.”

Walking in a semicircle she focused her mind and tried to stay physically active. Duz seemed satisfied with her attitude, still smiling until she moved in. 

She spun to avoid his grasp, put down a knee as she reached for her own weapon. A mini baton no longer than her palm, but when used proper could incapacitate anyone. Just as she was able to hit Duz to his side, he hit her with his forearm, sending a chain of electric pain up to her elbow and knocked the kubotan from her grip.

She backed away, holding her shaken limb and kept dodging him until she backed too far against the window. Not allowing herself to be pinned down, she lunged and rolled over herself. The hard floor hurt her shoulder. Duz caught up with her and kicked her ankle out from under her. 

She gasped and realized he was going to beat her when she was on the ground. Rolling sideways, she escaped him and found her discarded kubotan. She caught it again and assumed a fighting stance, arms up in defense. There was a good three-pace distance between them. Duz froze and his black and red eyes were riveted on her. 

Gwen protested when he pulled out his sidearm. “Oh,  _ come on _ .”

“Life isn't fair,” he snarled. 

“You wouldn't shoot me,” she taunted. “It would alert everyone around.”

“Then take it from me.”

She protested with a groan and moved in only to get this sparring over with. Her first attempt failed, then with a bit of effort and misdirection she caught the barrel, twisted the wrist and moved his elbow inward and almost released the weapon free of his grip. He caught her hand and suddenly froze, looking at her cracked skin. She exhaled and tried to free herself but he lowered his gun, still holding her hand for inspection. 

“What's this?”

“It's nothing. Eczema. I'll live.”

His scrutiny moved to her face and she felt exposed, vulnerable for the first time that evening. When he spoke, he let her hand slide out of his. 

“Soon all of his will be over. We won't stand by and watch the world fall. You will be fighting with us.”

“I know,” she defensively replied, moving away to hide the moisture gathering in her eyelids. Her pulse made her ears ring. “Thank you for helping me, even if Lex told you to.”

“Yes,” he began, nodding deeply. He moved closer, pulling his hood down. “I'm following orders. But I can also think for myself.”

She saw his pointed elf ears. His head was round and marked with subtle trails across his skull and face. He breathed in through his nostrils and dug his thumbs in his tactical belt. She imagined that, before being stung, he had been a handsome man. 

“How does it work, turning into a strigoi?”

He looked up and sideways as he mustered an answer. “It depends on what or who creates us. Not unlike human beings, in a way. We are what our creators decide to make of us.”

Her curiosity spiked, she resisted the urge to come closer, folding her arms against her breasts. “You were created to be smart, then. Do you remember your life before that?”

She waited. He seemed to recollect his thoughts, eyes to the floor as his right hand fumbled the clip of his holster - out of habit more than weakness. 

“I remember pain,” he said, looking at her intently. “And loss. I have lived and loved before being reborn. My children and their children have long died by now.” 

He stepped into her space and she found it hard to stand her ground, absorbing his story. 

“Does it trouble you that I am more…  _ human _ than you expected? That I'm able to think, and feel the same emotions as you?”

She caught the full scent of him, the smell of his equipment, and rainfall on the ground under the sun. She bit her lips and blinked a few times. 

“It's comforting,” she said. “Because I know you're not an enemy. There are actual monsters out there, so-called humans that sold their soul for nice clothes and fine foods.”

He studied her again. Gwen caught a sense that he enjoyed this moment, simply talking to her. 

“Lex told me you worked together for years. It made me wonder… how this world had changed. When I watched you both yesterday I almost believed that there was something worth fighting for. Now I see that I was mistaken.”

“Lex is just a friend,” she said, shaking her head and conscious of her anxious state. “I don't do that sort of thing, I'm not like that. I -”

He had placed a hand on her cheek, glaring down with sorrow and some sort of fascination. 

“I know.”

Know what? Gwen removed his gloved hand from her and shook her head. She feared a line had been crossed, that she was going down a terribly dangerous path. 

“I'm tired, it's been a long day. I suppose you'll leave soon.”

He held his belt again and a smirk danced over his face. 

“It doesn't serve us not to acknowledge one's weakness. I believe I have found yours.” His stare went dark and accusatory. 

“Rest well, Gwen Xuan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hesitated until the very last moment before letting Duz take charge for this one ;)


	4. Assets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humans are introduced to the Sun Hunters. 
> 
> Duz, Vaun's right hand and friend, is charged with handling their business while the strain breaks out across all of Brooklyn.

Chapter 4: Assets

 

The streets of New York were as busy as he recalled: vehicles parked everywhere, traffic jams, trash thrown every which way.

And the looters, rioters of a new sort taking advantage of chaos to profiteer on others’ demise.

Duz pushed the gas pedal, leading the black Suburban across town to reach base. He passed red lights and stops, using his heightened senses for safety. Driving always helped clear his mind, to think things through.

The two prizes they'd caught were either going to serve them or be served to the Ancients. Neither of them spoke which was unlike normal human captives when tied up and blinded on the backseat.

Vaun sat in the passenger seat, silently observing the state of society. They had planned for decades to face a moment such as this one. The previous time was during the Civil War. Duz had learned the hard way about what lurked in the shadows. It was Vaun that recruited him, used his skills as a soldier to serve a purpose higher than a nation.

Then, in order to continue serving through the ages, he was offered a life beyond death. He stood before the Ancients with Vaun at the center, pleading for his cause.

He had witnessed the recruiting of other Sun Hunters over the course of the century. Vaun was a good judge of character, selected candidates among the fiercest of humans, those that knew no fear and we're not affiliated with any group. He took the time to interrogate the male first, the one Duz believed would be ideal: did not back down from a fight, defended himself against the infected and had no ties to close relatives.

The female, however, was going to be a problem. He was in charge of watching her when they waited for Vaun to finish up the first interview. Duz could hear her heartbeat and smell her distinctive blood type, the poorest one which wasn't as appetizing as others. She also looked more pale than her male counterpart.

“I know there's someone here,” she muttered under the black fabric bag, tied to a chair in an isolated room. “You all look the same to me, why does it matter if I can see you?”

“Indeed,” he sarcastically replied, standing close to the door. “Why should it matter?”

She turned her head towards him. “Where is Lex? Is he alive?”

“Yes.” Regretfully, he found some form of entertainment in indulging her questions. “We are deciding on his fate.”

He heard and smelled Vaun approaching from the other end of the detainment hall. He met a satisfied look on his mentor’s face. Pulling off the cover from the female's head, Vaun leaned forward to take a look at her. She squinted under the single light from the ceiling, her black hair over her face until she shook it away. She scowled and protested.

“Where am I?”

“Deep underground,” Vaun said.

“Who are you? If you even have a name…”

“It's Vaun.” He pulled out his switchblade and held off deploying it. “Your friend told me you were studying to fight the plague, is it true?”

She took a moment to reply, squinting her already narrow eyes at them both.

“We were trying to survive and help our friends.” Her voice got deeper. “We were too late, they had already been infected.”

Vaun then proceeded to untie the woman and she massaged her wrists before looking at them both. She didn't get up right away.

“Are we free to go?”

“Only if you swear not to speak of this to anyone, otherwise you'd have to die,” simply replied Vaun. “Or you can stay, keep learning how to fight and survive. Help us stop this plague once and for all.”

Her heart rate picked up speed as she looked up at Vaun, then she stood and creased her brow.

“Let me talk to my friend first.”

Vaun pinched his mouth and lead her down the hall towards the other occupied cell.

“Lex!” she called, seeing him through the gate as Vaun unlocked the door to have them share the room. “Are you alright?”

The man was standing and nodded to her somberly, touching her arm to calm her down.

“Did you accept their offer?” he asked.

“No, not yet.” She distrustfully looked over her shoulder. “You?”

The one called Lex, Alexej Havlik in full, was much less uncertain. He acquiesced and looked at Vaun.

“I agreed to join them.”

“What?!” Her cry was suddenly high-pitched and loud. She lowered her voice. “These are glorified SWAT vampires who can talk, but vampires nonetheless.”

“Strigoi,” Vaun corrected, arms crossed. “Not vampires.”

Alexej grabbed the woman's shoulders and she seemed to calm herself.

“If they wanted to kill or drink us we wouldn't be here, debating. They offered to train us so we can work for them during the day. I've made my decision, Gwen. This is our best chance to see this through.”

“I'm not ready,” she said, panic agitating her body. “My family is still out there, I can't abandon them.”

Vaun and Duz watched as the trust between the two started to dwindle. The male let go of his female friend and stared her down with what looked like disappointment. She was headstrong despite letting her anguish show.

“If you choose to leave,” Vaun reminded, “we won't be coming back for you.”

She nodded. “I know. But I must go to them.”

They all understood what it meant to uphold family duty, to go back where they belonged. No one could get in the way of one's bond with their kin.

The one named Gwen was made to leave the room while the other stayed and watched her before his blue eyes fell on Duz.

“Make sure she lives,” said the man.

Duz looked back, smirking at his boldness. Only Vaun and the Ancients gave him orders.

“That is up to her,” Duz replied before turning his heels to follow Vaun.

The female waited at a corner and found that she couldn't navigate the halls of the Ancients alone. She waited as Vaun stopped midway to talk to Duz.

“Odds are that there won't be anything for her to find.”

“Do you need me to keep an eye on her?”

Vaun took a breath and eyed the female skeptically. “For now. We can't afford to spread ourselves thin, not at this time.”

Duz agreed, but thought about the man’s piercing stare and determination.

“She means something to the male. We can use that.”

“Yes,” Vaun’s voice trailed off as he searched his face. “Do what you have to do.”

Duz gave a sharp nod and headed forward. The woman arched a short eyebrow as she saw them split up. Duz did not stop in his stride.

“Come on,” he barked. “Let's go.”

He picked the Tahoe this time. He placed her on the back seat and entered the driver's side. The key was on the ignition and the tank was filled up by a brother hunter who took care of maintenance. Duz drove out of the garage and into the light of mid-afternoon. He lowered his hood and put on his shades. The windshield had special UV filters but still a lot of sunlight shined through.

“Where to?”

“Forest Hills.” She was very quiet for a few seconds, then blurted out hurriedly, “take the Atlantic Avenue, Jackie Robinson parkway then-”

“I know where that is,” Duz cut her short.

“Sorry, thought you’d want to avoid traffic and all.”

He avoided the main roads and tried not to get blocked by traffic incidents, climbing on sidewalks when there was no room on the lanes, when citizens abandoned their vehicles to run for their lives. At least it wasn't night time.

“My God…”

Checking his rearview, he watched the woman staring aghast at the scene of muggers stabbing a man for his wallet and keys. Duz looked ahead and did not stop or slow down. His empathy was buried deep within his subconscious.

“There is no god.”

She did not respond to his affirmation. Perhaps she had her faith and did not wish to debate it.

The rest of the ride was peaceful, she was using her phone for most of it and he was watching the road. The further they got, the less turbulence they found. They passed houses and mansions next to park areas. Forest Hills was a middle class habitation zone, and he wondered if Gwen lived there herself. There was no looting, no breaking and entering… yet.

Perhaps she may be safe after all.

He dropped her off in front of a two-story house and a small front yard. She thanked him for the ride and was out the door in the same second, jogging towards the entrance.

Duz waited in the car, hearing movement inside the house. Elevated heart rates. Two other individuals were inside the house, but her panic was growing.

“Damn it,” he hissed, putting on his mask before turning off the ignition and heading out under the sun.

Palm over his SP01, he rushed inside the house and produced his weapon, heading towards the main room where hushed tones spoke rapidly in English and Chinese.

An elderly Asian couple screamed in fright as he barged in, and Gwen saw him too, her eyes pleading and desperate for help. She tried to push his gun away from what looked like her parents. Duz snapped his masked face at her and she backed up. The older female was holding a towel over the males bleeding shoulder. Gwen stood before them, protective.

“Don't worry! He drove me here, he's here to help!”

Duz straightened his back and waited for them to calm down, holding out a hand to make them listen.

“How were you injured?” he asked.

The round-faced, gray-haired man cringed before answering angrily. “I got stabbed at my shop by some looters! I’m just a car mechanic. Agh!”

The exposed blood made his stinger churn with titillated hunger. He could smell that none of them had the worms. Duz lowered his gun before turning to the daughter.

“No going out after dark. No contact with anyone infected. Secure this house, you’ll be safe here.”

“Who are you?” complained the father, panting with pain.

“A friend,” he muttered. “I am none of your concern.”

He headed out, holstering his gun with contained anger. He should not have stepped out of the car. Footsteps rushed after him.

“At least tell me your name.”

He turned and saw the confusion and emotion on her face. For a second he found that she was genuine, but unafraid. Not afraid of _him_. He hesitated.

“They call me Duz.”

“Thank you, Duz,” she said with a sigh.

He could not have gone back to base any quicker, driving fast, keeping his mind on eye-to-hand coordination instead of the lingering images in his head. He did not acknowledge what troubled him, it would only weaken him. Now was not the time for weakness.

The training grounds were crowded that night. Duz joined his brothers on the floor to witness the training of the man called Lex.

Vaun stood in the front, arms crossed. Duz saw and felt his satisfaction. Beside him stood Lar and his enthusiasm was contained, hands joined at his belt. His deep-set eyes followed the session, jaw clenched.

A strigoi brother whose name was Chen was sparring in hand-to-hand combat with the human. _Sparring_ was a big word. The two were taking turns punching, grappling and immobilizing each other to the ground. Much to everyone’s dismay, Lex had the upper hand. He evidently knew various martial arts, Duz recognized some of his moves. What was he anyway? Ukrainian?

After replying to a punch, he caught Chen by the neck and twisted until he positioned himself behind him and dragged him down. Chen adjusted his footing, used his enhanced agility to turn the situation over to his advantage, he hurled into his opponent, making Lex lose balance. He crawled and tried to get up but Chen kicked him in the stomach. Shouts, grunts and stinger rattles cheered for him. Lex breathed deep, rolled and quickly recovered his stance.

Then a knife was dropped on the ground. Vaun’s knife. He smirked and watched as Chen was fastest to grab the weapon and attempted to get into Lex’s defense.  

But the damned human was fast despite his relaxed posture, knew pressure points in order to get a hold of Chen’s arm, got into his space and punched him in the face twice before covering palming his face, blinding Chen, pulling his head back. He then swept behind his knee, moved under and around him to make him twist on one leg. Chen was then laid down in one swift move, the knife changed hands, moving to Chen’s neck and Lex was victorious.

Duz heard strigoi growl and complain. He did not like to see a brother be treated as such but they needed to learn from this.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough,” Vaun declared, gesturing for Lex to give him back the knife, which he did. His brow was creased with stern authority. “What is this? Krav Maga?”

Lex shook his head, using his sleeve to wipe sweat from his face. “Systema. Russian military combat.”

Vaun took a short breath, studying his expression. “You understand why we fight. _What_ we fight. I need to know why _you_ fight.”

It took a moment, but Lex found his answer. “We’re at war.”

Squinting at him, Vaun turned to the gathering and they understood it was time to disperse. They needed to hunt.

“Come with me.” He said to Lex and motioned for Duz to follow. “We have a lot to discuss.”

As he walked with them, Duz caught Lex’s attention and the man appeared to recognize him easily. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is she safe?”

Letting out a soft growl, Duz would have prefered not to have his abilities doubted.

“Yes, the woman is with her family.”

Lex nodded in gratitude, turning his attention back to Vaun. They were walking towards the armory.

“Tell me about your training,” Vaun spoke.

“I practiced martial arts for the past ten years,” Lex slowly recounted. “Once a month, I played some airsoft with a group of military veterans.”

Duz caught Vaun’s amused glare aimed back at him. He smiled in return.

“You shot live ammunition, at least we know that.”

“I killed a friend, and his wife and children.”

“You _released_ them. They were already lost.”

“Like you?”

Duz felt himself click and rattle at the provocation. Vaun dismissed it.

“No.” He halted at the entrance of their equipment and weapons room. “When creating us the Ancients made us more, improved to last through the ages.”

Lex looked at the armory and eyed Vaun with suspicion. “How long has all of this been here?”

Vaun gave Duz a short glance. “About two hundred years.”

He proceeded to gather equipment and Lex cautiously followed, lingering in front of the weapons rack. Duz watched him closely, noticing the man’s sober interest in the CZ firearms, a standard arsenal for the Sun Hunters since the 1940’s. They kept upgrading the weapons to new models of the same manufacturer ever since. While he browsed, Vaun kept speaking.

“The Ancients have kept watch over humans for millennia, suppressing rogue strains of the strigoi infection whenever we found it. We operate in the shadows out of necessity, but to defend you against yourselves, we need to work under the sun.”

“Hence the Sun Hunters,” Lex said as he looked up from a display of knives.

“Also called day walkers,” Vaun added, inserting a clip into an SP 01 pistol. “A title you could earn if you pass the next trial.”

He handed over the weapon and a pair of gloves to the human.

“Keep these on at all times.”

Lex did not question or protest the idea of being tested once more. He was obedient and smart, knew when it was in his best interest to learn and absorb everything.

When Vaun brought him to train in the pit, they were joined by other hunters there to watch the trial. Lex attentively watched how to dispose of strigoi, how the stinger worked, how to avoid getting grabbed. Vaun only had to explain once. When he was left alone a new feral strigoi was released and he held his gun up, checked the magazine. Lex raised an eyebrow and focused on the incoming enemy, taking cover only briefly before advancing between the pillars. The strigoi used its sense of smell to find its prey, rushing towards Lex at full speed.

Duz folded his arms, watching from the balcony.

“He's saving his bullets.”

Beside him, Vaun smirked but said nothing.

The strigoi was upon Lex and mere paces from him, it tried to snatch the man but Lex did not shoot, raised the butt of the gun to knock out the furious strigoi and it only staggered backwards. It deployed its stinger to drink and Lex rolled to put some distance between them.

It looked like a game of cat and mouse for a moment as Lex ran from one pillar to the other. The strigoi followed a comically predictable pattern between two pillars. Duz chuckled and Vaun shook his head.

“You're wasting time,” he called out. “More are coming.”

Lex changed his running pattern and the strigoi was left grabbing air, but did not see two gloved hands reaching from behind and twisting its neck.

Then, the gate to the holding room opened and two more strigoi rushed in the pit. Lex stood his ground above the first now dead creature and he waited.

“Well, that was short lived,” regretfully muttered Duz.

Vaun held out a hand. “Watch.”

Both strigoi advanced on him at the same time, both equally as ravenous and extended their feeding organs in unison. Lex threw his weight sideways and grabbed the first stinger before rolling away, his motion pulling until the strigoi lost control and fell as its stinger was forcibly extracted out of it. The second seemed to register the ruse and Lex discarded the twitching organ, white blood and worms spilling everywhere but he didn't stop to look. He rushed towards the strigoi that was smart enough not to do the same mistake as the first one, and it tried to claw at Lex’s eyes.

He used one of the extended arms to move the strigoi’s entire body around, set his legs apart, and twisted its spine in an unnatural way. Once to the ground and caught in a tight lock, hand clasped under its chin, balancing his weight over the raging strigoi, Lex pulled out a switchblade from his right boot. The strigoi died from a stab in the ear.

It was over and Vaun crossed his arms, looking down with disapproval.

“You brought a knife to a hand-to-hand fight.”

Lex breathed deeply and defiantly looked up.

“You gave me a gun with no ammo.”

Vaun smiled. “Good point.”

He wiped his blade on the back of the strigoi’s shirt. Duz found that Lex was somewhat distraught, perhaps unhappy with his performance.

They took him to the barracks. Sun Hunters had their own lodging with sleeping chambers, individual quarters and sanitaries. Lex was left alone for the night to rest. Vaun met with Duz in the dark halls of the Ancients, they spoke quietly.

“He won't trust us after tonight,” Duz expressed.

Vaun’s eyes were focused on the void before he looked at him. “There’s nothing to gain from blind obedience. We need him on his two feet.”

“You saw how he fights,” Duz said, perplexed. “He could turn on us at the worst of times.”

He confronted a very assertive, confident leader and Duz regretted speaking his mind.

“Then it will be your job to make sure he has no reason to cross us.” He gave Duz a strong pat on the shoulder. “Your my best hunter, Duz. I hate to have you babysit a day walker, so let's hope you're wrong.”

Duz grumbled in his chest at the mixed signals and feelings mangling his brain. He'd follow Vaun at the ends of the earth, even if his pride took a shot every once in a while.

 

While he was reluctant to cater to new human recruits, it was even more of a chore for Eve, the loyal errand girl who knew the city better than everyone he knew. She brought a bag of food for their new guest. Holding it out to Duz, she wouldn't take a step farther than the garage.

“Next time order your own takeout,” she snapped, heading back to her Cadillac.

“Vaun still hasn't returned yet. Maybe stay over for a bite?” Duz playfully shot back at her.

She scrunched up her nose and pouted before driving off with screeching tires.

The paper bag smelled like coffee and a breakfast sandwich. A foul scent to a strigoi, Duz couldn't remember ever having this as a human, not in his time.

He brought the food to the barracks and stopped at the door, remembering that he wasn't going to treat Lex like a detainee.

“Alexej Havlik.”

He waited and heard steps behind the door before it opened. The man squinted at him and saw the bag of food, Duz handed it over. It was the morning, he hoped Lex had slept. He smelled terrible.

“Don't you people sleep?”

“Irrelevant,” Duz replied. “Get yourself cleaned and meet me at the supply room in a half hour.”

“Sure, I'll just take my time then.”

Duz cringed at the sarcasm but ignored it. Vaun would soon return and he wanted Lex ready for the rest of his training. They had no time to waste, the outbreak wouldn't wait for trivialities.

He hadn't fed for a few days and the hunger wasn't so bad for now, he had lived through weeks of hunger in times of peace, keeping the snatched victims for the Ancients. Overcoming his instinct was part of his training and what separated him from a wild strigoi.

When Lex was ready for the day there was a pile of clothes and equipment waiting for him on a table in the armory. He still wore his coat and clothing from the day before. Looking at the provided gear, he gave Duz an earnest look.

“Your uniform,” Duz announced, placing pistol ammunition clips next to it.

“Thank you.” Lex kept his arms to his sides before raising a brow. “I need to get some of my stuff from my car and apartment. Tie up some loose ends.”

Curiosity had gotten the better of him and Duz agreed to accompany the new day walker back to his car, then they drove back to Brooklyn to visit his apartment. The two-room place was almost as spartan as the lodging offered by the nest of the Sun Hunters: minimal furnishing, clean, and plenty of secure storage for weapons. Lex picked up a travel bag under his bed and started packing clothes and a laptop.

“Hm. It looks like you moved in last week,” commented Duz.

There were shelves on the adjacent wall and he stopped to look at the rows of books. Most of them were about war and terrorism, from authors he never heard of, and some George Orwell. Picked up a volume titled “Emotions revealed” by Paul Ekman.

Snickering at the observation, Lex gave him a short glance over his shoulder. “You can borrow some if you'd like.”

“I have no plans to sit still for any length of time.” He put down the book and picked up a folded black knife. “A man of your caliber could have served in the special forces, or law enforcement. Why spend so many years in an airport?”

Lex mustered his answer while Duz stood in the middle of the room.

“The hours were good, lots of free time.” He zipped his bag closed and turned to him. “What about you? Who was Duz before becoming a Sun Hunter?”

He pressed his lips together pondering whether to change the subject.

“I was a Union soldier until 1864,” he told him quietly, hoping no eavesdroppers would hear. “Vaun found me after an ambush, my entire unit was killed by strigoi. I had run out of bullets long before and all I had was my bayonet and hunting knife.”

He breathed through his nostrils, convincing himself he could no longer smell the blood of his fallen brothers, or the corpses of the first strigoi he killed.

“And Duz was your nickname?”

“Of course.” He looked down, then let out a short breath. “My name was Elliot Van Duzer. Born and raised in Iowa.”

“I grew up here, during peace,” explained Lex. “My parents lived under the Soviet regime in Czechoslovakia, then moved to America to provide a better life for me.”

“The land of opportunities,” Duz smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Lex chuckled and bowed his head before folding his arms, visibly at loss for words. Duz relaxed his stance and gave him a pat on the shoulder, glaring at him sideways.

“Your new life starts now. Whatever you believed you were preparing for, whatever war you thought was going on, none of it matters. It’s life or death, and we stand together. Human, strigoi… Only actions define us.”

Nodding, Lex seemed to stand a little taller. “I wish some people could hear that instead of bickering about race and politics. Many will fight each other over who is right or wrong instead of seeing what’s happening to humanity.”

Duz knew what he was referring to. The Sun Hunters lived in the shadows but were not cut off from the world. He had grown equally sick and tired of the identity politics, the corruption and struggle for power over the masses. It had occurred over and over, some strigoi were old enough to tell history from first hand experience.

One of them, the last Born, had lived through almost all of it.

“There is no such thing as peace,” he said. “Only the quiet expansion of evil under different masks. Sometimes it rises at the surface, but so do we.”

He handed over the folded knife and Lex handed it back.

“Hold on to it,” he told Duz with a stern expression. “You’ve given me more than enough gear for a lifetime.”

Or two, Duz mentally added, pocketing the gifted knife.

They came back to their vehicles dodging the sight of police patrolling the streets, looters running with stolen valuables. At the wheel of the Tahoe, he watched Lex place his bag on the passenger seat of his black Hyundai. A vibrating alarm caught his attention in his breast pouch. He wasn’t used to separating from his brothers but it sometimes came in handy. He pulled out his phone to read the text message.

_Returned. Three civilians to relocate. Where are you?_

It was Vaun, and he had to dispatch rescued people not suitable for drinking, likely to be women or children. Duz tapped the call function on the touchscreen and held the phone to his ear, waiting for the tone as he started driving to follow Lex.

“I’m running some errands with our new friend,” he told Vaun.

He heard the low rumble of an annoyed stinger in the earpiece. “ _We have Eve for that._ ”

“She’s in one of her moods,” Duz retorted, using his blinker to indicate to Lex that they were turning right at the red light. Lex acknowledged and followed suit. “What happened today?”

“ _We scouted the house of one of the survivors from flight 753. She was ready to get a bite out of her children when we found her. The whole neighborhood was turned._ ”

They merged into Ocean Parkway. “So, where do you want the children to be placed?”

There was a pause. Duz glanced at the navigation screen and quickly evaluated the time before returning to base. Fifteen to twenty minutes.

“ _The Chinese woman_ ,” Vaun finally replied. “ _You mentioned she was safe. Have her look after them for the time being._ ”

“Hm, what if she refuses?”

“ _Did she strike you as the selfish type?_ ”

He remembered the house of the Xuans, large enough to accommodate three more. He felt something itch in his sinuses.

“Fine, I’ll-”

He slammed on the breaks. Something fell on the road side before a crossroad and cars began to pile up, Lex almost hit the car directly in front of him. Duz unfastened his seat belt and pulled out his SP01.

“Call you back.”

He hung up on Vaun, putting the phone back in its pouch as he observed two men throwing things on the lanes to stop cars. Panic ensued, people left their vehicles, screaming and one of them was chased by one of the muggers. They had the patchy hairline of strigoi victims turning. Lex was already loading his own pistol. He was out on the road and Duz muttered a curse through his fangs.

Only three paces away he tailed Lex as the man aimed his gun at the first creature who was grabbing an older man, ready to deploy a stinger. The sun was out, burning the pale infected skin. Lex fired once, twice, catching the strigoi’s attention before taking the headshot. The other one started rushing towards them as well. Duz took aim and placed a bullet between his reddened eyes. He fell over a car’s trunk.

“Oh my god! No!” screamed a woman. “Help! Help me!”

A dark-skinned lady in a thick winter coat was being dragged by the hair into an alley by a creature in advanced turning stage, Duz quickly paced towards it, wary of the obvious commotion caused by the scene, people were running in all directions, others were rushing towards the woman to help.

 _No, no, no_ , he repeated to himself.

He quickly killed the strigoi with a shot to the back of the neck, and the woman was dropped on the sidewalk. She had blood on her face from claw scratches. She was moaning and crying loudly, having trouble getting back up on her feet. Lex joined him and saw what had happened. Duz registered that a dumbfound crowd was now watching and two men and one woman were helping the victim. He pulled his black and red hood lower over his face.

She would turn soon, it was a matter of hours.

“Thank you,” the helping lady said, panting. “Who… wait, who are you?”

Lex stepped in. “Go to your homes, or leave town if you can.”

Duz was already back to his SUV and Lex jogged up to him.

“She is injured. I should have dispatched her, too,” he told the human, sitting at the wheel. “We took a big risk, here.”

Lex sighed and looked somewhat distressed. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Duz gave him a look of disapproval before slamming his door shut and starting the car.

They made a U-turn and took an alternate route back to base.

  


Vaun laid out a map of New York on the table under the ceiling light, pointing a gloved finger at JFK, then ran it up to Greenpoint and down to Fort Hamilton.

“The infection spread all over Brooklyn within a month, whether infecting families and workers, it’s moving fast and soon we won’t be killing them fast enough to change anything.”

Lar leaned forward and eyed him harshly. “The Ancients have foreseen this, we should have stopped that CDC truck while it moved.”

“Wait,” Lex intervened, still not wearing the black uniform. “You knew about the CDC van?”

They all suspiciously turned towards him. He did not let them phase him, moving to point at Manhattan on the map. He used his phone to check on a note.

“I followed it from JFK over the Brooklyn Bridge, it stopped somewhere here…” He circled a finger south of Central Park.

Vaun leaned back and stood with concern on his face. “Stoneheart.”

“What? Do you know this place?”

Lar nodded slowly. “We have our suspicions about key individuals conspiring against us.”

The two faced each other with contained skepticism.

“I have so many questions,” Lex said, one eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna have to fill me in on your intel, what do they have on us…”

“It’s a need-to-know protocol for new recruits,” Lar retorted dryly. He looked down at Lex’s hands and shifted his footing, as if preparing for some sort of fight. “Why did you even follow that van if you didn’t know what it contained?”

“It was granted passage out of airport grounds without getting searched,” he explained earnestly. “I got _curious_ , it’s part of my job.”

Arms crossed impatiently Vaun turned back to the map and interrupted them.

“Okay, you two can kiss and make out once we figure out a plan.” He tilted his head for Lex to come closer. “The driver of the van, we need to know who it was. If he could drive across moving water, just as you did, then he can be bought. Again.”

 


	5. Branching out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex intends to help Vaun and Lar with reducing risk of losing more Sun Hunters, planning to scout for dissident groups of humans willing to fight the Partnership alongside strigoi. 
> 
> When returning to find Gwen he discovers that his brother in arms had done some of his own progress.

Chapter 5: Branching out

 

He stood under the one light bulb hanging from the ceiling, his posture solemn but his tired face marked by frustration and contained annoyance. Around Vaun, the Ancients sat on their perches, silent to the ears of those foreign to the nest. Lex stood near Yonn and Lar, close to the far side wall, waiting for Vaun to finish conferring with the Ancients.

Lex looked from under his hood at them, statues for all he cared. He had only ever seen them move once to defend themselves against the attack last year. They were living now, but the cost still left a bitter taste. 

The quiet consult ended when Vaun turned to walk towards the halls. They moved to the tactical room in order to talk amongst themselves and leave the elders in peace. Lex pulled back his hood and stood near the briefing table. Maps and walkies were still there from the last night, while the eight flat screens on the wall displayed indoor as well as outdoor surveillance. Vaun stood opposite from him, he pursed his lips, looking preoccupied to Lex even though he didn't know what had been discussed. 

“They're growing impatient. I can't keep feeding them hopes and dreams while we wait for the right time to activate our plan.”

“No news of Quinlan?” he inquired.

Lar softly growled and took a step forward. “Forget about Quinlan. He made his allegiance clear and we’ll go on as we always did. We take care of our own.”

Lex remembered the altercations, the shouting, the conflict of interest over the  _ Lumen _ . But in the end, Quinlan had saved the Ancients.

They all owed him their lives.

“We can’t possibly be the only force of resistance,” Lex persisted. 

Vaun kept his body rigid as he spoke, almost like a statue himself. 

“The humans can barely muster up any significant numbers to pose a threat to the Partnership. With the Master and Eicchorst gone, we’re now left with a conglomerate of power-hungry strigoi and humans, chewing away at the rot.”

“As always,” Lex groaned, crossing his arms against his flak vest before adding his opinion. “This is a lot of pressure on only one person.”

Giving him a sideways look, Lar raised his chin in contempt. “We tried the direct approach before.”

“Yeah,” Vaun said, crossing his arms. “No need to rehash that mess again... Lex, your girlfriend is safe and feeding us vital information every day. I promise you: she won’t be caught in any crossfire.”

He opened his mouth to speak and chose to ignore the generally accepted assumption that he was romantically involved with Gwen. 

“I worry that she may be found out, that a trap may be set up for her if she keeps on nosing around for too long. Then there goes our grand plan to take down the draining facility.”

They stood in silence and glared at him as if he had spoken like a child. Yonn was always silent so Lex did not hold it against him. 

“If we pull her out too soon, there will be complications,” Lar spoke back, slowly as if to make sure he understood. “Your hypothetical trap will be set up for us instead.”

Lex leaned forward, blinking and setting his eyes on the second in command.

“I know we’re using her as a safeguard, or a lure. If it weren’t for Duz we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

Taking a half step back, he caught Lar’s eye movement shifting to Vaun for an instant before looking back at him. “Fine. For her sake, a backup team will be ready to deploy at a moment’s notice, but that means looking for new recruits. Double the workload for you.”

“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” Lex complained and held out an annoyed palm up. “Just say it like it is, we know what to do. I didn’t--”

“Will you two shut up or do I have to hold separate meetings from now on?” Vaun interfered. His glance was enough to make both of them hold their tongues. “We’re not wasting any more resources for one person, Lex. She is collateral, get used to it. Now…”

Lex looked back at his black stare only to express his displeasure. Vaun kept going after having re-established his authority.

“Evacuating the building will take longer than previously calculated. According to Gwen, we have seven floors with a high concentration of detainees, most are restrained and kept alive for experiments.” He pointed at one area of the map. “We can start the charges here, under the medical aisle, leaving some reaction time for the able bodies to clear out.”

He knew it was a stretch, that amongst all of the Sun Hunters Vaun was the one to show the most compassion for human life, still Lex felt uneasy talking about bodies. These were living, breathing, uninfected people held against their will. And yet they couldn’t all be saved. Arms crossed he ran a gloved thumb over his lips, keeping himself from expressing his doubts.

“The B-positives will be heavily protected in case of a breach,” Lar said. “Once we’re identified - and we will be - the Partnership will double up to keep their precious livestock.”

“That’s why we’ll act quick and not hesitate,” Vaun replied. He pressed his fingertips on the map, looking back at Lar. “We have comms, access to surveillance and people on the inside. This won’t be Stoneheart all over again.”

Lar shook his head. “I won’t be confident for as long as we haven’t pinpointed our enemy.”

“It’s not important,” Lex said. “Every time we cut the head of a leader, two more spring out. Now, all that matters is that we know what we’re fighting for. Whoever stands against us, that’s our enemy.”

It sounded wrong to him. He'd studied terrorist groups from all over the globe and their methods. Those groups never lasted, driven by greed and infighting. Those with the strongest ideals, backed by limitless resources from corrupt governments had a guaranteed future. A state above all others, reaping the spoils of death and decay, now ruling the world for blood. 

“We're not a band of merry pirates,” Lar commented. 

“Terrorism worked when people believed they were safe,” Lex almost regretfully said, “now they're already terrified. We can't do worse.”

“We don't advertise ourselves, Lex,” Vaun reminded. “Unlike your terrorists, or your heroes. Do you want us to get invaded again?”

Feeling they were missing his point, Lex sighed and backed away from the table. They needed to think bigger, get out of their own heads and change their priorities. 

“If the Ancients want change, they need to work with other resistance groups. The whole world is against us because they don't even  _ know _ we exist.”

 

“Fine,” Vaun said as they slowly walked towards their private quarters, “I'll indulge your ideas, if you'll listen first.”

Something in his gut made Lex feel more apprehensive than relaxed. Vaun's calmness wasn't expected at this time. 

“The Ancient who created Duz has had trouble keeping track of what is going on.”

“Loss of signal?”

“No,” Vaun stopped to face him, his expression was troubled. “That never happens. That's how we communicate with the Ancients. How long has it been since you two split up?”

Lex mentally recounted. It had been almost six days, five nights. Practically a week. 

“Five nigh-”

“Five nights,” Vaun snapped, then lowered his voice to a murmur. “Do you know how long that feels?”

Lex hesitated. “I don't understand, we received his reports… We got word from him just yesterday.”

He was lead into Vaun’s room for privacy and the leader shut the metal door behind him. He seemed to temper himself, no longer piercing Lex with his black and red gaze but looking down. 

“You lived your whole life a loner, so you can't fully grasp the concept. For us strigoi the bond we share in the nest is stronger than that of blood relatives. None of us are really alone. We can sense it when one of us is gone, when they're in pain…” He focused on Lex again. “Or when they're lead astray.”

He felt himself twitch an eyelid at the notion. 

“No one can go AWOL, is that what you mean?”

Again, his gut wrenched and it had nothing to do with having the munchies. Vaun propped a hand on his hip and used the other to scratch an itch at the top of his head. He sat down at his desk. 

Lex sat on the cot to stay at his level. He never saw Vaun show any kind of weakness aside from injuries. 

“Most of us older strigoi call it the afterlife crisis, or the late human experience. I call it the great fuck-up.” He grimaced, leaning against the back of his chair to stretch out his legs. “Duz is still young, I should have expected him to get distracted. I think Gwen is the first female he had to spend time with in a while.”

“So that's what this is about?” Lex rolled his eyes at the ceiling and blew air out of his mouth. “Vaun, I was expecting you to tell me someone would die.”

“You're wrong to underestimate the situation.”

He let out a short, dismissive laugh. “And I think they're both adults who know better than to jeopardize the mission with problems such as this.”

“Fine, then,” Vaun brought a foot over his knee and meshed his gloved fingers over his lap. “Let me tell you the story of a young strigoi who found himself stranded in a small Norwegian town- don't you snicker at me, son. You're getting the extended version, with the director's commentary. It was the year 1012.”

“Should I be taking notes?” asked Lex, cocking an eyebrow. 

Vaun ignored him. “This young strigoi, let's call him Roan, had been sent to hunt a renegade band of savages that drained every village and port across the northern country.”

Lex had an inkling that he was telling something personal, but blinked and nodded. 

“It was just below the arctic circle, near the currently named Trondheim, and the sun barely gave him a rash in the winter. He was able to walk outside during the day. But not the Ancient who created him. So he went off on his own… Except that a blizzard cut him off from his nest.”

“He rested in a village at the bottom of a fjord and still today we don't know what it was called, but the people there spoke their own dialect and he was seen as a simple foreigner, not a demon or other spawn of the devil. They were pagans, and they had never learned to fear the darkness or the creatures that lurked in it.”

Taking interest in the tale, Lex leaned forward on his elbows. Vaun, eyes up in his memories, continued. 

“After a fortnight taking shelter from the blizzard, Roan became friendly with the locals. He was allowed to stay at the home of a widower, a young creature named Brunnhildr, whose eyes matched the ocean and her hair as bright as the sun. She found in Roan the presence she missed from her late husband, lost as sea.”

Lex couldn't refrain from smiling even more. “You pronounced that name quite well.”

Vaun frowned at him for interrupting. “They soon came to terms with his nature, that he needed to feed on human blood, that even while she accepted his monstrous attributes, she could never hope to find the man she lost by taking him in. Eventually the blizzard lifted and he had been plagued by another strain of disease to which there was no cure.”

“Let me guess,” Lex sarcastically said, playing with a paperclip he had found on the floor. “It was love.”

“Shut your mouth and let me finish.” Vaun searched his thoughts and his glare fell back on him. “He had decided to stay with Brunnhildr, and they were happy, for a time. The savages, though, had decided to return south after the winter, and they found Roan’s scent. He was caught by surprise when they ambushed him, and they slaughtered his human mate. Once Brunnhildr was avenged, he understood the responsibility of keeping to his kin, never to meddle too close to the mortals.”

He took a breath. “We feed on your blood. Wherever we are, we bring pain and death. It is not a choice but a fatality. We carry these stories with us and hope that they never repeat themselves in our lifetime. The pain helps us remember.”

“I see.” He registered Vaun’s scrutiny of him. “You're saying I should prevent Gwen from getting too close to Duz.”

The equivalent of a shrug with Vaun was a slight lift of his hairless brow. 

“Why aren't you her mate anyway? Is it her iron deficiency?”

“No. She hasn't been open to that sort of relationship with anyone,” Lex reflected. “I respect that.”

“Or maybe you're just a fool.” Vaun checked his watch. “But you wouldn't be here if you were any other way.”

Lex observed him as he dived into his own thoughts. Vaun seemed to be doing the same. Standing up again, Lex took a step towards the door. 

“I'll go check on them,” he decided. 

“Bring her back, this time.” Vaun looked up. “The Ancients will want to know who she is.”

 

The several patrols and checkpoints around the Partnership controlled part of town made transportation difficult by car. The last time he'd driven anywhere was far beyond the safe zones. Lex took to the tunnels, walking for about an hour until nightfall. Strigoi now wandered during the day to work alongside humans, going to sleep at sundown for most and the few that stayed up were there for security. No one was supposed to be out on the streets at night. 

Lex knew them but still resorted to the underground, having memorized the maze over the months, he had done so often enough to no longer require his infrared binoculars, saving on battery use. It was the safest way to gather supplies and keep track of Partnership activities. Once a week, varied numbers of people were bussed to and from the draining facility, he heard the engines above the sewage network. With his mask, armor and weapons he often thought of himself as a dystopian version of a Ninja Turtle. It barely made him smile now. 

Having reached Gwen's street, he climbed up a ladder and opened a hatch into an alley far from the street lights. It was still snowing. It was nearly eight, she was bound to come home by now.

His boots fell quietly into the white cold carpet and he could hear soft steps coming his way. 

Looking up, he found the fire escape ladder that he jumped to grab and he heaved himself and all of his gear until he could climb on the grated platform. It wasn't as silent as he'd hoped. 

“I can hear and see you.”

He sighed and looked down at the familiar voice and figure standing below. Her black hair was still neatly tied in a ponytail. Dark rings under her eyes indicated lack of sleep. 

“Hi Gwen.”

She smiled and squinted but he was still wearing his mask.

“It's Lex.”

“Oh, hang in there, I'm coming up.”

Her windows were a few floors higher and when he reached them the curtains were drawn but the lid opened immediately. Duz appeared, unmasked under his red and black hood. 

“Finally,” his friend muttered. 

Lex snuck into the apartment and stretched his back, seeing that some furniture had been moved. There was an empty space where the coffee table used to be. The couch was pushed all the way next to the bedroom door. Duz stood beside the door and opened to a panting Gwen who had hurried up the stairs. 

“Ah, good to see everyone's here.”

Lex unmasked himself and took a glance at them both, standing a couple of paces apart from each other. 

“Did you give him a key?” he jokingly asked. 

She puffed a chuckle and took off her parka. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but he suspected she was feeling troubled. 

“Would you like some tea? Something to eat? It's been a while.”

“I won't be here long,” he politely declined, shaking his head. “I came here to check on you.”

“Oh, well, I'm fine. Duz has been looking after me, like you said.” She nodded her head at that last statement. “He also helps me with staying safe. Taught me a few tricks.”

Lex kept his polite smile as he watched her cautiously move towards her coat hanger to dispose of her heavy winter parka. She excused herself as she went to the bathroom. 

Duz looked back at him. 

He wasn't one of them, not a strigoi. It made his heart sting that he did not share their signal for empathy, the unspoken, wordless chatter of the nest. But he was a Sun Hunter and he knew Duz like a brother. His dark eyes were narrow, his back was hunched and his silence spoke more than he could imagine. 

Lex walked towards the kitchen, touching Duz’s shoulder as he moved passed him, and proceeded to make tea for Gwen. As he had hoped, Duz had come right by his side at the stove and he spoke very quietly. 

“I have provided her what she needed. Security, safety.” He paused until Lex turned his attention towards him. “Companionship.”

There wasn't a shadow of hesitation or doubt as he spoke. Lex had no surprise to hide. 

“Is it something she wants?” he simply inquired. 

“She was quite direct about it.” Duz slightly pushed his arm to turn him around and face him. “She doesn't fear me.”

Lex eyed his gloved hand, creasing his brow in disapproval of the unwelcomed touch. Duz continued. 

“She fears you.”

The flush of the toilet broke his line of thought and Gwen out the door and walking towards them. She studied them for a second. 

“If you're hungry there's really no trouble, help yourself to the pantry.”

Lex turned away from Duz, breathing in deep to flush out the negative thoughts and feelings from his mind. 

“Tell me about the patients in your building. Vaun has suggested that the B-positives could be a liability if we were to evacuate them.”

“They're mostly medicated but a few become unstable after their examinations, I don't think they'd be very cooperative.” She squinted at them both. “What were you two talking about?”

Duz returned the stare Lex gave him with a slight twitch of his lower right lid, a sign that he was very displeased with the situation. Defiantly, Lex gave Gwen an understanding nod. 

“It's been suggested by the Ancients that you should be mindful of us. Preserve yourself above all else.”

She folded her arms together. “I don't understand, why would the Ancients worry about me?”

Duz closed in towards her. 

“They can sense that you are helping us while exposed to the enemy. And that you matter to us.”

She did not flinch or step away when he was so near that his scarred chin touched her head. She barely reacted when his hand was on her back.

Gwen took a long breath and clenched her jaw, looking apologetically at Lex.

“Strigoi share a hivemind,” he explained to her, unable to be more direct. “Very little gets passed them.”

After a sad sigh, she murmured. “I know.”

It dawned on him that she had a capacity to endure more than he’d anticipated. Perhaps her time alone and hardships had made her more reckless. Perhaps she was no longer the person he thought he knew.

And maybe he wasn’t the best judge of character in this situation after all.

He propped his hands to his belt and faced them both.

“The Ancients require your presence, they want to speak to you.”

Rendered speechless, Gwen sought out Duz for advice - or support - and a growl emanated from his chest, where his stinger was located. Chasing away the thought of it, Lex narrowed his eyes at him.

The strigoi hunter looked at Gwen and caught both of her shoulders.

“It will be okay. They just want to know who you are.”

“Get your things,” Lex intervened. “The sooner we move out, the better.”

He stayed near the window with all lights out while Gwen was gathering her essentials in the bedroom. Duz was also with her, softly answering her anxious questions. Lex heard everything, it wasn’t a big apartment. 

“I refused to join you when we first met,” she worried. “I hope this is a second chance.”

“We’ll have to hear what they have to say.”

“Do you think Vaun has anything to do with this?”

Duz did not answer right away. “Vaun is a strong influence in every decision, but he doesn’t make the final call.”

He heard ruffling of clothes and sniffling. Then there was a soft hiss and Lex turned, catching a glimpse of two black-clad people wrapping arms around each other. Her pale hands were touching the sides of his combat vest. 

There was something profoundly moving in witnessing that moment, and Lex couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint exactly what drew him to keep looking. He usually turned away from emotional nonsense. 

Seeing two people kissing never did anything for him, much to the contrary.

But this time he found himself perplexed and curious.

He no longer saw the pallid, unnatural face of Duz but his friend, a man in his own right sharing an intimate moment with someone he cared about. A woman unlike any other, someone he had never imagined ever needed to be held in such a way. 

Vaun was right. 

 

They were three walking through the tunnels under the occupied town, with Lex leading and Duz closing the march behind Gwen. She carried her backpack, equipped with a pouch belt with enough to defend herself. Lex supplied her with a pistol he borrowed from the armory. 

“Do you ever get used to the smells?” she asked, making small talk. 

“Not really,” he said, trying to sound as chipper. “It only gets worse if you think about it.”

“It depends on the neighborhood,” Duz replied. “Chinatown produced the filthiest wastes.”

They passed a sewage crossing with torrent of filth merging into one. 

Gwen put on her humorous ironic tone. “That's kinda racist.”

“Everything smells foul to you, Duz.” Lex turned to look at him then heard the rumble of a truck passing over them. “Wait here.” 

He jogged towards the closest drainage along a sidewalk and caught sight of the moving vehicle. A large bus, half full with passengers. 

It ran passed the local post office then everything shook and a loud explosion almost burst his eardrums. 

Lex took cover underground as small debris shot through the drain opening. Duz and Gwen and rushed at his side, but he only heard ringing when they spoke to him. 

“That was an IED,” he finally heard a Duz say, looking out to the road with the scope of his Scorpion. “Many are wounded. Some dead, too.”

Gwen clutched at her new gun. “Should we help them?”

“We need to find who did this.” Lex held his own Scorpion rifle and headed towards the ladder to the nearest manhole. “Stay close, Gwen.”

“Don't worry about me,” she muttered, climbing after him. 

Progressing along the street under cover of the night, they observed a handful of people in plain clothes, rummaging through the debris and corpses. Lex, Duz and Gwen stayed behind a concrete roadblock. 

Then, they watched some of the corpses seem to awaken at the presence of humans. Stingers shot out from open mouths, catching one of the looters by the throat. And another. They started firing their hunting rifles but at short distances and under stress they weren't amounting to any good. Lex took aim and shot the strigoi closest to a female looter with brown hair falling out from a knit hat. The second was taken by Duz and the other strigoi ran fast but fell with its head pierced by a precise and silenced 9mm shot. 

The looters held up their firearms and cried out. “Who's there? Come out!”

Duz turned to Lex, gestured two fingers up and motioning a circle with his index. Lex nodded. He turned to Gwen and held up a palm and a down movement signifying to stay put. 

When Duz was in position, Lex came out from hiding and aimed his Scorpion at the attackers, walking on the road near the explosion site. 

“You have three minutes,” he told them, unmasked, as loud as he could without alerting the strigoi patrols in the farthest block. “Three minutes to lead me to your headquarters. After that, more strigoi will come. I will not assist you.”

“What the fuck are you?” shouted the loud female. “Collaborator?”

“No.” He saw movement in the shadows behind the group of terrorists. “We are your last mistake.”

Duz knocked the first man to the back of the neck, rendering him unconscious. The two others didn't register he was there before he punched the air out of the other man's lungs, and twisted the woman's wrist pulling her rifle aside and out of her grasp. She was given a rifle butt to the nose and she bled profusely as she fell backwards. Only then did Duz produce his CZ 75 pistol to keep her still. 

Lex hurried to assist at the scene, and the woman held her nose, sitting on her behind, while Duz and Gwen held her at gunpoint. The sound coming from beneath the tactical vest Duz wore gave no shadow of a doubt that he was strigoi. 

“You can kill me,” she complained, nose stuffy and pink-faced, “I'm not giving another ounce of my blood.”

Lowering his aim, Lex stepped between the bodies of her friends and let out a plume of vapor from his nostrils. 

“Who are you?”

She hesitated a few seconds before clearly stating her name. 

“Judith Reverdin.”

“You just killed about twenty innocent people,” remarked Lex. He unkindly pulled her arm to get her on her feet. “We need more than your blood.”

He took the woman into an alley while Duz dragged the two knocked out men in his trail. Gwen tried to help by carrying one incapacitated leg but dropped it when Duz was evidently strong enough for the job. 

Reverdin lead them into the back of an abandoned building that was falling apart. The woman locked the door behind them and Duz woke up the two men with a slap each. She calmed them down when they came to, explaining that they would have no choice but to help. 

“We can help you as well,” he told them, “we have a much bigger target than busses. That is, if you want to make a difference in this war.”

Lex kept his rifle ready, but his finger was off the trigger. More humans gathered to see what was the commotion, some had guns, baseball bats, others had nothing in hand for defense. 

The woman appeared to be their leader and she spoke to them, using an old tissue to wipe the dried blood from her lower face. 

“Okay, settle down everyone, these people found us after the operation and offered to help our cause.”

“Your little operation cost the lives of innocents, need I remind you?” Lex interjected. 

“Change doesn't happen in clear-cut scenarios where everything is perfect and happy.” She stretched her neck proudly. 

“Your strategy is a failure.” Lex turned towards the other pseudo-terrorists, modulating his voice to sound more quiet, but clear to everyone. “We are part of an organization of strigoi and human hunters who seek to maintain balance, to stop the domination of strigoi over the living. Until now, we worked in the shadows. But we must strengthen our numbers again, and offer you the resources you need to overthrow the Partnership.”

“Resources?” asked a bearded one wearing a brown leather jacket and a black ball cap. “Are we talking silver? Guns?”

He could see the white steel barrels with warning signs on them in the back of the room. Lex scanned all of the faces who waited for his answer. They were ten, six males, four women plus Reverdin. 

“Blunt force won't work without a sound strategy and proper intel.”

“So why isn't  _ he _ talking?” asked another, intently raising his chin towards Duz. 

Lex turned to his friend who had remained quiet so far. He removed his mask, slowly, revealing his pale, ashen face marbled with markings of the Ancients that crossed his forehead and cheeks. His piercing black stare was enough to dissuade anyone anxious enough from using their weapons at that moment. He replied with a guttural tone, letting his stinger rattle audibly. 

“I trust my human associates.”

Beside him Gwen kept a low profile and her change of footing told Lex she wasn't too sure about this plan. 

“And you trust this… thing?” Reverdin said to Lex, disgust transpiring on her freckled cheekbones. 

Duz and Lex turned towards her in unison which made Reverdin bring up her palms in rendition. 

“We fight together a common enemy,” Lex told her plainly. “I wouldn't have any other by my side once I see the face of Death.”

“So what guarantees do we get?” Reverdin spoke as if to show their audience that she was indeed speaking. Lex raised a corner of his mouth at the display. “You could as well lead us into a trap, have us drained and pick up your reward from the Partnership.”

Lex refrained from answering and his look to consult with Duz was only that of despise when Gwen suddenly came out of her mute observation. 

“There would be no reward,” she bitterly told them. “They would kill every last one of us, hunt the rest of us down and make a great show of it, to crush all dissidence and any hopes of overthrowing the regime.” She took in a shaky breath. “The humans who collaborate are even worse than strigoi.”

“No objection to that, sister.” Reverdin turned back to Lex. “Your gear, it's paramilitary. European, right?”

Making note of the sudden change in her tone, Lex heard the murmurs coming from some of the men in the group. Duz produced a low rumble from his chest before speaking out. 

“We are the Sun Hunters, chosen and trained by the Old Ones to protect life against the strigoi infection, by any means necessary.”

“What do you propose then?” the bearded man retorted impatiently. “We all dress in ninja clothes and start shooting the Partnership into fine dust?”

Lex gave a quick look to his watch. 

“First,” he simply said, “we relocate before the patrol tracks down our scent from the blast site. That is if you want to live.”

That was when they started riling up and one of them got angry.

“You brought them to us!”

It was ball cap man, who pushed everyone aside to get to him and Reverdin with a hand drawing a Colt pistol. Lex held up his rifle and pulled the lever to engage a round with an alarming, distinctive sound. 

Everyone froze, expecting a dramatic outcome. 

Duz quickly interfered by pushing a gloved palm over the man’s face, made him lose balance and caught the weapon before it could be discharged. Lex would have saluted the perfectly executed  _ systema _ take down but kept his aim up. The man cried in pain while he was on the concrete floor, clenching his hand with a now twisted joint at the index finger. His furious eyes were on the redhead. 

“You, good for nothing, treacherous whore.”

Lex signaled for the gathering to get a move on. “To the basement. We're moving out through the tunnels.”

They were hesitant at first, but with enough courage and pragmatic action they all moved out and picked up a few belongings before evacuating the building. Even ball cap man had settled for following orders. 

It was one of those decisions that he took without a second thought, trusting his intuition and worried about the ramifications later. 

Duz signaled to Lex with a nod of his head and they went into a corridor that led down a row of unoccupied office rooms. The black orbs of his eyes pierced him before he hissed and muttered. 

“You have some nerve…”

Lex took a calming breath. “Listen. I don't want to have them meddle with us any more than you do, but they have their use. They have the will to fight, regardless of consequences.”

Lifting his face with eye movements translating his thought process, Duz took one step forward, lowering his voice down to monichordal human speech. 

“I know where to take them.”

They proceeded through the dark underground towards the edge of town, only lit by flashlights and the natural night vision of Duz leading the way. His senses were able to pick up the slightest sign of foes ahead and behind them. 

Lex stepped down and let the human dissidents walk passed him and he found Gwen pacing along. He pushed his hood from his head and pressed his lips into a reserved smile. 

Closing the march, she gave him a nod of acknowledgement but it was too dark to see her eyes. 

“You're doing a good thing,” she said, “helping these people. I'm starting to believe we might have some luck after all.”

“I'm beginning to feel more optimistic myself,” he agreed. “After everything we've lost.”

She adjusted the hold of her backpack upon her shoulders and her swift look at him made his chest sink. The sound of her voice was faint. 

“I can't thank you enough for looking after me.”

Her head was lowered when she said that, characteristic of a self-deprecating behaviour that he'd caught glimpse of during their time as TSA officers. Maybe it was an Asian thing. Then it dawned on him. 

He had always thought of her as his little sister. Perhaps she had instinctively regarded him as her sibling, too. 

“You're like family to me,” he reminded her, “whatever happens, you'll be safe with us.”

She finally gave him an honest smile and her eyes while tired and spent showed the slight shine of relief. 

Lex released his left hand from his Scorpion and used it to supportively circle her shoulders as they walked. Gwen leaned against him and, for once, he allowed himself to believe that they would be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little difficult to write because I wanted to portray feelings and emotions in a different way from how I usually do. I write Lex as a moral compass, his struggles are deeply rooted in his subconscious, buried under thick layers of emotional armor. 
> 
> I wanted to show here that he is a survivor in more ways than one. 
> 
> Why didn't I write the seduction stage of Gwen's romance with Duz? I guess you'll just have to hang tight and find out what I have in store about that ;)


	6. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Gwen chapter. Nothing really bad happens here, thought I'd cut everyone some slack, for a change.

Chapter 6: Heart

 

There was a point during the hike in the dark where the sewer type of tunnels turned into an industrial compound type of underground road. Duz was leading the way, aided by nothing but his senses. The group was following, not without some questions of concern that a strigoi was the one being trusted for this excursion.

Lex had stayed back to close the march, while the woman named Judith was walking beside Gwen. 

She didn’t hear her complain or protest as Duz brought them into a dead-end. Using her flashlight, Gwen inspected the wall: it was circular and an intricate type of latch secured it. 

A hatch to a vault. There was a panel with commands and keys to press beside the wall. Duz approached it and pressed a series of four buttons before pulling a lever.

Lights came on in the corridor and a loud cranking sound preceded the movement of the latch coming undone. The vault opened with a hiss, from the release of hydraulic mechanisms or an airlock, Gwen wasn’t sure. The hatch receded into the wall, rolling sideways to open.

“How exactly,” she hesitantly asked under her breath, “do you know this place?”

Upon waiting for the circular door to fully open, she met Duz’s black eyes. His outstretched mouth had a slight satisfied smirk.

“I saw it while under construction.”

They entered and climbed down a few steps into a submarine-like decor, every wall and floor panel was metallic or concrete. The light bulbs on the bulkheads were old, buzzing with static electricity. Duz slung his rifle in his back and went ahead to unlock a second hatch. This type he only pressed two command buttons and the sound of a heavy lift came to life. He turned around and tilted his head to make sure everyone was accounted for. Lex arrived last, moved towards the exit panel near the main door and the vault was sealed again.

“This is a nuclear shelter,” Duz continued as the industrial-sized elevator doors parted open. It could hold twenty people. “This elevator will take us two hundred feet below the surface. You will be safe here.”

“But why isn’t there anyone here already?” asked Judith. “I sense a trap.”

“Everyone who knew of this place is dead,” he dryly told her. “So unless you want to join them, you will keep quiet.”

They all stepped into the cabin to be lowered into the shelter. Gwen had never been in a bunker or basement lower than the ones under the Partnership facilities. She bit the inside of her cheeks to suppress her claustrophobic stress and the lift finally halted. Duz stayed in front of everyone. 

The lights turned on and she saw a high ceiling over a big central room with old electronic equipment, a radio station most likely, television sets, speakers, seats and desks. There were large storage units along the walls as they walked into the main room. She counted three hallways into separate wings of the compound. There was ventilation with the noise of fans spinning and the air felt mild in temperature. 

Duz stood in the middle of the room and joined his hands at his waist. 

“The Ancients have kept this place secret for circumstances such as this one,” he explained. “It will resist any attack and can't be breached, but it presents one flaw: its unique entrance. If information of this place becomes compromised you’ve doomed everyone to die a slow, but comfortable death. I assume that's no one's plan for the future.”

He paused, looking at men and women shaking their heads, glancing around with enthusiasm. 

“Good,” he finished and crossed his arms. “For your sake, I hope you will behave yourselves honorably. Like humans.”

Behind them, Lex removed his hood and slung his rifle to his back. His voice was commanding, unlike how he usually sounded. 

“There is enough room for fifty people down here, and plenty of non perishable food and water. Basic survival is no longer your priority so we can now focus on the bigger picture.” He gestured to Judith. “Get your people to their personal quarters, east and west wings.”

They picked their rooms to rest for the night, quickly finding their bearings in the underground shelter. 

After choosing her room in the north wing, as per Lex’s instructions, Gwen spent time looking inside closets and cabinets. She didn't know what she hoped to find in this previously inhabited place. There were many schematics in the main operation room with all of the electronics. She took a seat at one desk, opened the drawers and studied the old maps of New York, Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens… The locations and names were different. The whole bunker was stuck in the past, preserved from change and cataclysm of the surface.

She got carried away reading safety instructions in case of radiation, how to consume produce from the surface after the fallout. The pictures and drawings of people happily living in the shelter made her smile with bitter regret. If only she had known all of this before… If only her parents had known. 

She heard combat boots approaching her desk and she looked up at Duz who sat opposite from her, leaning on his left elbow to look at her reading material. He looked calm, content even, as his chest emitted a soft rattling click. 

“Thanks for doing this,” she told him. “Though it seems too good to be real.”

“That's never a good sign,” he commented, shaking his bald head. 

“Reality made me pessimistic,” Gwen apologized. “We've been lied to for too long, made to feel safe when we should have been fighting for our lives many years ago. I wanted the world to wake up after hitting rock-bottom. And now… that seems like it's finally happening.”

He blinked his black eyes before observing her for a moment. It used to make her feel insecure, but now she knew why he did it. 

“I noticed you seem more happy lately.”

She tried to restrain her smile but failed and covered her mouth, feeling her cheeks flush. She joined her hands over her lap to appear more together. 

“I was thinking of something,” she began, but her words escaped her when she met his gaze. 

“Yes?” he inquired. 

She searched his pale and angular face trying to remember her trail of thought. The world had ended when she lost her family, nothing mattered anymore, not even her own existence which was what led her to collaborate. 

“I want to see what's out there, someday. Up north. I figured why not go where it's always been snowy and cold, try to start over, far away from everything.”

Her eyes wandered over his MOLLE vest attachments, the pouches that held UV flashbang and silver shaving grenades. She knew he slept with all that gear, this outer appearance that inspired strength and protection. Being near him made her feel ready to take on the world. 

“When we finish our task,” he softly replied. “When humanity is saved. I don't want to have to look after you in the great white north.”

Her heart almost metaphorically applauded at the idea. She couldn't hide her teeth. 

“You could always come with.”

Duz inspired deeply and she lost her giddy mood when he looked down. He was a soldier. Being part of an army, among his brothers in arms was his sole purpose in life, and in his afterlife. 

“Knowing that you will be safe is enough for me.”

She pressed a knowing smile, swiveling the chair on its axis to feign confidence. 

He belonged to the Ancients. He was not hers to claim. 

The room she had chosen had a twin bed with a mini bathroom, closet, small table and chairs. There was a crude painting of the Grand Canyon on the wall facing the bed. Turning on the tap, there was a crank in the pipes before water flowed in the porcelain basin. Gwen washed her face, brushed her teeth and combed her tangled hair before looking in her backpack for some clean light clothes. The smell of the sewers still clung to her jacket and work trousers. 

Someone knocked at her door. Raising an eyebrow at the disturbance, she opened and found Duz standing at her step. 

“You usually let yourself in through the window,” she whispered, chuckling as she let him inside. 

“You can understand my hurdle, then.”

He carefully unslung his rifle and placed it against the night table, then he went on and unclipped his tactical belt. 

Standing baffled and out of her depths, Gwen watched him slow to a stop as he was taking off his kit. 

He raised a hairless brow at her reaction - or lack thereof. 

“What?”

“And you're just going to spend the night?” she simply asked. 

Scoffing at her indignation, he resumed taking off his combat vest and placing it in a pile on the table. His pinched smile amused her more than she should have been annoyed. 

“Yes I will sleep here,” he answered with an assertive nod. “With you, Gwen.”

She threw her hands up and let her arms fall, slapping her thighs in resignation. 

“Okay, fine. But it's going to be weird and I had plans to actually sleep.”

“Don't worry,” he slurred his words, “you'll be fine.”

He was down to his hooded sweater with the red zipper and he casually took it off. She wasn't surprised to see he wore a skin-tight long-sleeved shirt underneath, with heat dispersing patterns along his chest and back. He was rather bulky and muscular for someone who only drank blood. And strigoi usually smelled bad from their cloacal secretions every time they fed, but he didn’t smell like anything but a slight musky scent. 

His barely human face wasn’t enough to remind her of what he really was.

She took off her own filthy clothes and boots, sitting on one side of the bed. Smelling her own odor on her t-shirt made her want to undress down to her undergarments but she refrained from it. 

“It's amazing that heating still works in this place,” she said, deciding to make small talk. “And running water.”

She felt a dip in the mattress when he sat down and made heavy thuds on the concrete floor as he took off his boots. 

“It was built after the 1966 incident in the Mediterranean when a B-52 crashed, starting a wave of nuclear phobia and a handful of rich people spent their lives creating a self-sufficient environment such as this. It works without maintenance, somehow.”

She turned and half sat against the pillows. 

“And you were around to see it?”

“It's not far from the Ancients’ dwelling,” he said more discreetly. “The construction works drew their attention and I kept watch over the years.”

Pulling off her socks, then her trousers, she kept on her leggings and slid under the old blankets and sheets, hoping she wouldn't catch any bugs or have an allergic reaction. Curiously she did not smell any mold on the fabrics. 

“Do you miss living with someone?” she emphatically asked. 

Duz laid down on top of the covers, meshing his pale fingers over his abdominals, his feet in black socks were crossed and he looked at the ceiling. 

“I miss wanting things,” he spoke, as if to himself or to a therapist. “My will is my own but… my life is driven by a stronger motive. The only reason we're here, talking, is because I've been shutting myself from that calling.”

“From the Ancients?” Her forehead creased. She raised herself on her elbows. “You could get in trouble, then…”

He stayed silent, unblinking, breathing calmly. She felt her chin tremble. 

“Elliot…”

Life seemed to return to him as he responded to his name, looking at her with a mix of worry and determination. Gwen let out a sigh, gathering her courage. 

“Are you hiding something from me, too?”

He sat up and she braced herself for something bad, his body was tense, shoulders up and his voice was raspy. 

“The Ancients allowed me to retain a part of my humanity, something I never knew I had kept from the start. It's only been creeping up recently, when I first met you.” He let her meet his black eyes before looking down again. “I am putting you at risk, Gwen. I haven't known fear in a long time… and now it's back.”

Gwen chewed her molars, restraining her increasing nervousness and will to act upon her unease. Refusing to let herself go to sentimentality, she touched his forearm, pressing lightly to give him incentive to think. 

“So, what can I do to help? You obviously came here because you needed to talk.”

He looked at her hand on him and did something that made her frown, but not with displeasure. He placed his hand over it. The only positive thing was that her eczema had miraculously cleared, two days before. 

“Keep training,” he said. “You have the right attitude, you can survive this.”

She already knew that from the previous times he had told her the same. Ignoring the drumming inside her ribcage, she scooted closer and slid her arm beneath his, meshing her fingers with his own until she felt him relax against her shoulder. Her own heart settled, too. 

“I'll be with you,” she hopefully promised, leaning her head against him. “For as long as I can…  _ if _ I can.”

They couldn't afford to deal with a love-stricken hunter with a bout of depression just before the mission. Gwen felt responsible for this weakness he was displaying, unknowing whether or not he could switch off his emotions during combat. 

But she couldn't break up with him for the sake of purpose. She wouldn't. 

“Lay down,” he suddenly told her, turning on his side. “Time to sleep.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, letting out a yawn. “Mind switching off the light?”

Duz looked around and found the light switch next to the door. She got under the cover again and thought she would feel him stand up from the bed but startled at the sound of a hard object being thrown against the wall, then everything went dark. 

“Jesus!” she cursed. “What the hell did you throw at it?”

“A pocket knife,” he blandly replied. “A gift from Lex.”

She turned around to sleep on her side. “Pffh. You're such a guy.”

“Silence.” He spooned against her and she felt his warm breath in her neck, then over her head as he brushed her hair back against the pillows. “Gwen…?”

“I'm sleeping.” She grasped his hand under her chin. It was soft despite the calluses in his palm. “Shut up, Elliot.”

She felt a short laugh mixed with a strong vibration against her back. His next words were quieter than ever. 

“I love you.”

Gwen felt her throat lock and her heart stop. How was it possible? Was he being honest? Weren’t strigoi supposed to have no sense of want? She squeezed moisture out of her eyes, unable to stop feeling her own emotions. Unable to lie to herself. She had to let out a held breath and fought against a cracking voice. She whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

 

The preserved coffee in tin cans smelled like a godsend in the morning. She worked the machinery of the coffee presser with its tubes and compressor system, allowing herself to pretend she was in some elaborate retro-themed hotel with a bunch of strangers. Gwen hadn’t been on vacation for years, so this felt quite like it.

Someone had turned on the old jukebox in the cafeteria and old motown filled the room. The feel-good music broke the morose feelings and she allowed herself to smile. The coffee maker stopped its racket when she could grab her cup of steaming black goodness. She refrained from using some of the fifty year-old sugar cubes to sweeten her drink. An arm went over her shoulder to help themselves with the dubious sugar and dropped two cubes in their coffee.

“You only live once, right?”

She turned to face Judith who leaned against the counter.

“Slept alright?” Gwen asked as they both looked at the rest of the group tabled at the booths and stools round the bar.

Marvin Gaye’s “How Sweet It Is” came on the jukebox and Judith lifted up the corners of her pink lips. Her red hair was slightly humid from recent showering.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes closed,” she candidly said. “I kept trying to figure out why, and how we got here. After everything that we’ve been through, it’s hard to accept any sort of blessing.”

“You’re fighters,” Gwen said, hoping not to fall flat with that compliment. “You can’t be happy unless you have adversity.”

“It’s true for some.” The woman, she couldn’t have been older than her, took a sip of caffeine and crossed a foot over the other. “Where do you fit in all of this?”

“I’m not like you.” She looked into her coffee and squared her jaw. “I didn’t trust the Sun Hunters at first. I never thought things would get as bad as they got. Then I lost my family… but by that time it was too late to go back on my decision and join them. I had to survive, so I collaborated.”

She watched Judith change her attitude from pleasant to defiant. “Oh, I see.”

Gwen lowered her voice under the sound of chatter and music. “I worked security for the breeding facility not far from where you were. The Sun Hunters found me, so I’ve been feeding them intel so they can strike the Partnership.”

“So, you have connections?” Her voice rose to a chipper tone. “Supplies, food? We could use some fresh stock, here. I mean, we can't live on canned goods everyday. Not to mention ammo and networking with other resistance groups.”

Gwen felt her face melt into an irritated frown. 

“Understand that we can't afford to compromise this place. If you truly need to contact other people then they'd need to be under oath too, so how do you control or manage the speech of others? That would be-”

“Fascism,” Judith interrupted, finishing her sentence. “I know. We can't become the very thing we're fighting against… But not taking any risks, distrusting everyone is just as bad. You've been there, you saw how the collaborators think, they live in constant fear. We have to get out there and keep searching for allies.”

Funny, Gwen thought, that the one responsible for the death of several humans was speaking about trust and alliances. 

She caught Judith's slight narrowing of her eyelids, the stiffening of her chin and Gwen took another sip. There was no changing that woman's mind. 

“Tell me when and where.”

Judith beamed with satisfied victory and put down her cup. Gwen followed her after waiting a few seconds. 

She was back to her room. After a quick stop to the toilet, she put on her thick black sweater and belt with the attached holster to carry the handgun Lex had given her. She released the clip, counted the rounds left in it and loaded the pistol again, not predicting that the sound of it would carry so far. 

“Going somewhere?”

Duz was leaning against her door frame, arms cross over his flak vest. His hood was down and she confronted red-rimmed black eyes watching her every move. 

“Yeah,” she said, somewhat relieved that he was so mindful. She holstered the weapon and continued getting ready. “Judith is up to something. She claims to know potential allies who could provide supplies for us… But she's lying. I'm going to keep an eye on her.”

“Did you tell Lex about it?”

“No. Where is he?”

After a glance into the hall, Duz came in and closed the door behind him with precaution. 

“He is in the operations room.” He placed a gloved hand over her shoulder, making her eyes set on him. “Did you intend to go without help?”

She furrowed her brow, concerned that if Lex or Duz were left alone to deal with the group of rogue humans, they risked mutiny. Or some kind of ambush.

“I will be extra careful,” she told him with every bit of confidence she could muster. “Besides, I'm trying to win over her trust, you know? Like at an all-girls outing. Should be interesting at least.”

His hand moved to her neck and she felt his thumb stroking her skin, next to her jugular, but his expression was almost sad. He leaned forward to let his forehead touch hers. Gwen took in a long breath, closing her eyes and felt the tip of his nose against her own. 

“I'll be back,” she promised. 

His hand moved to the back of her head to make her look up, while his other supported her lower back. She stopped fighting her beating heart, parted her lips and his mouth covered them instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He sighed through his nostrils, grasping at the back of her sweater while his tongue met her own in their speechless goodbye. 

It hadn't always been easy, to let her guard down and to feel so much for anyone. She had abandoned her fear of intimacy yet he was the deadliest creature she ever encountered. 

Gwen made another promise to herself. She would return to him, whatever the cost. 

 

The cold of night still remained in the early hours of the day. Gwen walked briskly in the icy snow on the streets of eastern Brooklyn. There were strigoi everywhere, wandering about, going on their daily lives doing nothing but twitch and look hungrily at humans. Gwen kept her head down, grateful that Judith kept her armband and sticker to show she had given blood that day. The strigoi and Partnership patrols left them alone. 

She saw signs towards the freeway and directions to JFK airport. The panels were dirty with rust and damage from the nuclear blast. 

“Over here,” called out Judith to go a certain path into alleyways. 

Gwen stopped contemplating the road to her former workplace and walked towards the redhead. 

“This better not be a trap,” she told her, smiling ironically. 

Judith smiled back and banged on a bolted steel door. 

“It's me!” she called. 

Moments later, still no answer. Gwen watched Judith's face decompose. 

“They've forgotten all about  _ me _ . Jog their memories.”

Judith banged harder on the door and took in a deep breath. Gwen cringed her teeth and covered her gloved hand over her wide open mouth and Judith babbled muffled expletives. Just at that moment, a rogue strigoi walked by, hissing and clicking curiously at them. 

“My friend was yawning and popping her jaw off,” Gwen lied. “She gave too much blood this morning. She's very sleepy.”

The strigoi looked like a homeless person and grunted something that could have been a satisfied acknowledgement, then wobbled away down the alley. 

Then the metal door opened with a cranking noise. A tall black haired woman greeted them with a welcoming smile. Judith hurried inside, pulling Gwen by the arm. 

“Brenda, this is Gwen,” she said, grinning with genuine cheer. “She helped us relocate to a safe location after the accident.”

The woman looked like she owned the place, a bar, by all accounts, and folded her arms over a green flannel shirt. Her square jaw and bright blue eyes made her look familiar to Gwen. Since she couldn't recall when or where she had seen her before, she decided that this Brenda looked like Xena, the Warrior Princess.

There was barking that they all heard coming from the floor below. It sounded like a large breed of dog. 

“Gwen Xuan,” she said, ignoring the loud animal. “Judith told me you needed assistance?”

“Always,” Brenda replied, her eyes darting downstairs. “Can I offer you something to eat or drink? Besides Freedom bars there isn't much for nourishment on the market these days.”

They followed, and Judith was very confident about the stairs that lead into the darkness of the basement. It smelled lightly of soil. 

“We have plenty of canned food, and even booze,” she casually told. “But I'd like some tea if you still have some.”

Brenda disappeared into a back room and the barking stopped. 

They ended up in a room full of blue UV lights rows upon rows of potted plants and irrigation systems tying them together. Gwen thought she recognized tomatoes, potatoes, berries, carrots, lemons, and even cannabis. 

“Nice selection of produce,” she commented. 

Judith approvingly smirked, touching the leaf of a strawberry plant. 

“We could use this installation in our new base, Brenda. There is plenty of space and power supply.”

So Brenda was an indoor farmer. Gwen liked that idea. She saw her coming back and followed by a mastiff dog. She stood rigid and closed up, still crossing her arms protectively. Gwen let the mastiff walk around her for sniffing inspection, wagging its tail excitedly before going to Judith and asked for petting and back scratches. 

Brenda was all business. “All work requires pay, or compensation in some form. What do I do with the kids while I do you that little favor?”

Judith crouched down to one knee to affectionately ruffle the dog's head and ears. 

“You could move there with us,” she suggested. “It's the safest place for them. There's plenty of room.”

“And where is  _ there _ ?”

Gwen tilted her head to give Judith a warning side-eyed look. 

“Well… you'd have to see it for yourself. Where are the kids anyway?”

“In school,” Brenda answered, then sighed. “It's Tuesday, Judith.”

Standing again, Judith wiped the dog hairs from her hands over her jeans. 

“I know that. Believe me I wouldn't bring her here if this wasn't legit. The whole gang is down there already.”

Gwen intervened before the enthusiastic Judith revealed everything. 

“We don't actually need a hydroponic garden. But what are your plans if this one is found out?”

Lauren kept her arms folded, hesitant. “The Partnership turns a blind eye to my business here. All I need to do is provide my best specimens for them to vary their production. In return I can stay afloat and the kids are left alone at school.”

Judith was livid. “You never told me that… Collaborator!”

“How about we calm down and talk like adults?” Gwen interrupted. “We can't always be heroes, Judith. Not when you have children to care for.”

“What do  _ you _ know about caring for children?” she spat. 

Looking at the woman from head to toe, Gwen realized there was no reasoning with her when she was this mad. There was anger and sadness in her green eyes. Loss. Gwen waited to let her come to her senses. 

“We didn't have to provide shelter for your people,” she berated coldly. “But you were reckless and got yourself in trouble. There are other dissident activists around town, you just happen to be closest to our objective.”

“Excuse me,” Brenda said. “Who are you, again? You forget that we've never met, which doesn't play in your favor here. I supply all the underground factions across the state.”

Gwen gave an obvious look towards the cannabis plants. 

“We're not narcs, don't get so sensitive.”

“They're friends,” Judith continued, her face straightening from her little breakdown. “They want to bring down the regime just as bad as we do.”

Brenda seemed to take a moment to think, unfolding her arms and leaning against a workbench with gardening tools, fertilizers and soil. 

“If you need materials and chemicals I can get them for you,” she spoke in a more soft tone. She directed her brown eyes over to Gwen. “Just show me where you live… I don't want my kids to keep being fed propaganda all day.”

 

She keyed in the sequence of buttons that would open the vault after watching Duz do it the first time. Brenda, wearing a large jacket and a bag of fresh produce, followed them into the nuclear shelter, eyes wide with worry and amazement. She asked no questions. 

As soon as they entered she smelled cooked food and heard music coming from the cafeteria. 

“Looks like lunch time,” commented Judith. “Let's find the new boss.”

There was no one at the entrance, not even at the command center with the radio. 

“Such a warm welcome,” sarcastically groaned Brenda. 

“Well,” Judith sighed, “there's nothing exactly  _ warm _ about them.”

Gwen said nothing, dismissing the criticism as evidence that her friends were good at being fearsome. She went to the radio station that served as a reception desk and heard talking in the hallway leading to the north wing.

Lex walked out in the hall talking to Duz who followed, locking the door of a room and pocketing the key before they both looked towards the entrance. They stopped mid conversation before Lex resumed talking in hushed tones.

“What the hell is this place?” muttered Brenda. 

When they were close and it became clear that Duz was not human, Gwen saw Brenda pulling out a steel revolver from beneath her jacket. 

She jumped to action, catching the gun and pulling it out of Brenda's grasp just as she pulled the trigger. The shot went off towards the ceiling, burning her right palm as Gwen held the weapon. Brenda tried to push her away and retrieve her gun but Gwen took her arm. She used the momentum to throw Brenda to the floor. She landed a knee over her throat, right hand up making a fist with the revolver, ready to strike. 

Gwen registered being pulled away by strong arms while Duz held out his pistol aiming at Brenda. 

There was now a crowd around them, the resistants had gathered to see what had caused the gunshot and some of them called out for Brenda. A man helped her up, shouting at Duz for harming her, or so they believed. 

Lex inspected Gwen's hand and carefully removed the gun from it. Blood was everywhere and she was trembling with pain, unable to move her fingers. 

“It's alright,” he murmured, “the bullet didn't go through.”

She cringed her teeth. Lex was applying pressure on her wrist and pulled her towards the hallway. 

“That was stupid of me,” she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. 

“Yeah, it was.”

She looked up and saw his smile and blue eyes on her, supporting her back as he opened a door to a medical office. She kept looking back as she was sat down while Lex went to look for gause. 

“We can't leave Duz alone,” she hissed, holding her wrist still, trying not to think about the dark red puddle forming on the white tiles. 

She heard water running. When it was silent again she tried to understand the voices speaking at the end of the hallway. After a moment Lex pulled a metal chair towards her and started applying disinfectant. 

“This is mostly alcohol, so it's going to hurt.”

She held up her hand over the table. He wore latex gloves as he placed medical supplies nearby. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut as he cleaned the wound, forcing her mind to stay awake. 

“You're doing good,” he calmly said, grabbing a curved needle and thread. “Don't worry about Duz, he can handle himself.”

He gave her no warning before starting to stitch her up. 

“Jesus, Lex.” She couldn't help a tear rolling down her cheek. “How many times have you done this?”

He slowed down and gave her a concerned look before working on her hand again. 

“I stopped counting after a month with the Sun Hunters. In fact… I operated on Duz half a dozen times until now.”

One stitch down. At least three more to go. Gwen sniffled and sighed. 

“Stay relaxed,” he murmured, “it'll hurt less. Breathe.”

She did as he instructed, noticing that her thoughts were moving away from the pain. She thought about the gun, the bullet that could have killed her friends. 

“So who is this Brenda?”

“Someone who grows food in a dive bar,” she muttered angrily. “And pot.”

“Ah, so it's worth getting shot over?”

“No,” she scoffed. “She has access to industrial grade chemicals. Also she has children in school and makes deals with the Partnership.”

Lex used more gauze to clean up excess blood from the seeping wound. His brow lowered. 

“This was Judith's idea, don't blame yourself.” He looked at her. “We could use more networking with the resistance, but it's not all on you. Now they have this base, they're more or less independent.”

“You mean, we don't have to stay here?”

She felt his hand against her blood-stained fingers. Feeling another human’s warmth was comforting despite the sting he inflicted with the needle. 

“We don't,” he assured her. “I don't think you belong with these people any more than Duz and I do.”

Her gaze wandered and she was starting to feel her head spin. She was bad at withstanding loss of blood. 

“Hey, stay with me.” He used the back of his gloved hand to steady her forehead. “Let me finish this, then you can have something to eat.”

“Sorry,” she slurred tiredly. “I used to pass out at the blood bank. Low red cell count.”

“I'm sorry for not being an actual doctor,” he joked. “And I don't think Duz would have tolerated anyone else taking care of you right now.”

It was no surprise that the two of them spoke, and she was relieved that Lex understood her ordeal. She tried to think of something funny to say but her mind and words jumbled. At least, he had made her distracted from the stitches. 

“He's a good friend,” she mindlessly spoke.

Lex eyed her suspiciously, then a knowing smirk twisted his face. 

“Duz is no one's friend. He is a brother, a good ally to have, a weapon to some extent.” 

He paused, suspending his care and looking her straight in the eye. She fought herself to hold his stare. He spoke even more quietly. 

“You care about him, no one's ever done that in a long time.”

She watched his stoic face, the steady hands and confident voice he had. She wondered why she had never heard of any spouse or companions in his life. Perhaps he was so hardened in living in solitude that the societal rules no longer applied to him. 

Then she recalled that feeling of unease, the looming fear that crept in the back of her mind whenever she imagined what it would be like to share his life. 

Maybe they were just very different people. 

“I know it's not right,” she admitted through a locked throat. 

He looked down after she had said those words, continued cleaning her wound and tried to finish up. He seemed disappointed somehow. 

“I wish I had your confidence,” she added, apologetic. 

“You would need at least some of it,” Lex flatly said, grabbing clean gauze to start covering the stitches. “The Ancients want to meet you. They'll want to know your intentions, and you shouldn't back down like this. They treat all weakness as a liability. Try to move your fingers.”

She attempted to open an close her hand and it felt tight but not constrictive. Lex deemed it was a good fit, removed the bloody gloves and kept talking while her heart began to race. 

“You're very sensitive, Gwen. Emotions are your strength, you can sense people from the heart and it makes you an asset when you trust your feelings. We all use our instinct differently. You have to give yourself some credit: you won over the heart of a centuries old soldier who never hoped to ever love again.”

Unable to muster a thought or words of gratitude, her smile was pained and she couldn't stop her tears. Holding her bandaged hand, she watched him rummage in the medkit and he gave her two tablets of anti-inflammatoires. 

“Don't tell him I said that, though. He'll probably want to tell you himself.”

She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. 

“He already did.”

Lex stood and helped her up, as if he knew she still felt dizzy. 

“You should lay down for a bit.”

“What about Brenda?” she worriedly asked. “And every one of these idiots…”

“Shh,” he tried to shush her but he chuckled at the same time. “I'll take it from here.”

She found balance on her feet when they were in the now quiet hallway and walked with him towards her room. 

“You've done so much for me, Lex, I feel bad now.”

“Don't be sad,” he said, patronizing. “You saved our lives earlier. It's the least I could do.”

She marveled at the way his encouragements made her forget her insecurities, even momentarily she felt at peace with herself. 

As soon as her jacket and boots were off, she laid down on the bed and almost instantly fell asleep. 


	7. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duz answers the call of the Ancients and has to make a choice.

Chapter 7: Sacrifice 

 

The humans were at the edge of panic, their anger and stress filling the air with their hormones, acrid odors mixed with the scents of the food coming from the kitchen.

Stinger wrenching and rattling madly, Duz quickly evaluated the risks if he did pull the trigger, being outnumbered and aggravated by the fact that Gwen was wounded. Her blood was on the floor, staining the winter clothes of the stranger named Brenda, the one being protected by the new occupants of the shelter.

“It was an accident!” pleaded a tall man, raising his palms, trying to stay calm. “Everyone please, get your shit together.”

Seeing people take a breath and relax a little, Duz lowered the SP01 and straightened his back. He glared at the woman who had started all of this.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

The red-haired leader of the dissidents swallowed nervously and craned her neck to check that everyone was listening.

“Brenda is here to see what safety we have to offer her children. In exchange, she will provide fresh produce from her garden amongst other things.”

The dark-haired shooter took a slow step forward. She squinted with predatory eyes at Duz.

“I'm not signing up for anything until someone explains to me why there is a talking strigoi among you.”

“Would you prefer I let my weapons speak in my place?” he snarled. “Like you do?”

She gave him a good look and faced him again.

“Good,” Duz stuck his thumbs in his belt and shifted his stance. “This is a confined space, too small for strong personalities so I suggest you and your friend watch your tone.”

“Starting off on a good note,” Brenda spat.

Duz felt his face almost grimace at her with despise but he contained himself.

“You're lucky we have a common foe.”

“Your uniform, it means you follow orders.” She looked at everyone around her. “Did you tell them that they're being manipulated by yet another ruler, another totalitarian willing to sacrifice innocent people for the so-called greater good?”

He almost laughed. Instead, he smirked and gave Judith a reference nod.

“Ask your friends about that. You came here just for a visit, I suggest you get on with it. Everyone here is free to leave.”

They brought her towards the kitchen but a handful stayed, protective of Judith. He gave her a glare that clearly expressed _don't waste my time_ then stepped towards her. He wasn't Vaun. He didn't like speaking in the name of the Sun Hunters, or the Ancients.

“Can you smooth things over with your people? Can you at least make sure everyone stays safe for the next couple of days?”

“Is that what you think of us?” she retorted, angered. “That we act like savages whenever we get the chance?”

He needed proof of the contrary but didn't have the patience to debate. His stinger reared in his chest, rattling and growling. He hadn't sustained himself in over a week and the feisty female looked like an appetizing meal. He felt his jaw tensing and he let out a long breath, only letting his human voice sound through his lips.

“I think we have too much to lose to allow any kind of distrust among our ranks. We stand united, or not at all.”

He took leave of them and walked back towards the north wing. He heard the humans speaking amongst themselves.

“There's more of them, somewhere. We don't even know.”

“You seriously think we can trust them? They look like ex-cops, just saying.”

“Matter of time before the guy turns into a strigoi, too.”

He saw Lex kneeling in the medical examination room, cleaning up the floor. Duz made a double take on the blood-stained rag in his hand.

“How is she?”

Gwen was hurt and he smelled her lingering scent in the room and hallway. It was weak and subtle, yet he was attuned to it. Lex looked back and got to his feet when the tiles were immaculate. His expression was tranquil but his shoulders were up.

“She's resting in her room. I gave her painkillers and I think she’s asleep.”

His stinger shook and clicked as he imagined the pain and stress she'd felt, keeping the Brenda woman from shooting at them. Duz grimaced angrily at the thought of leaving Gwen here. She was no warrior, let alone a Hunter. Lex threw away the paper rag into a disposal can.

“These humans won't sit peacefully for very long,” he shared with him. “It isn't our place to lead them.”

“We've nothing to prove to them,” Lex said, pensively looking down. “If they can't accept our alliance, we go on as initially planned. They can use this place as their own headquarters for all I care.”

“I must report to the Old Ones,” Duz told his friend. “And I need to feed…”

Hesitant to pass a message to Gwen, Lex nodded at him and bit his lips in silent understanding.

“I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Duz first raised a brow, puzzled, then chuckled at Lex’s playful smirk.

“She may not look like much,” Lex continued, “but she saved our skin.”

“That, she did.”

Once more Duz found himself wondering how his friend had spent years working alongside a person without falling under her spell. Perhaps the man was stronger, or less wary of his own emotions. Either way, he saw in Lex what he saw in Vaun, Lar, and even the Ancients: cold, calculated distance, and an underlying sadness about the state of the world.

He retrieved his Scorpion in the locked weapons room and gave him the key before they went towards the main elevator. Duz faced his friend as the doors opened.

“Keep me posted,” Lex said, pointing a gloved finger towards the chest pouch where they both carried their phones. “And tell them if all else fails, we have a bunker worth of drinks for them. It wouldn’t be all for nothing.”

Duz tried not to smile too widely at the wisecrack, hearing an accelerated heartbeat lurking around the corner. An eavesdropper. He looked straight at Lex and lowered his voice down to a mutter.

“If I don’t return, please look after her.”

Lex’s face hardened as he sucked in an irritated breath. He seemed to have also picked up on the presence that Duz had sensed. He looked down as he spoke.

“No, Duz. That’s your job.”

His blue stare pierced into his soul. Duz felt his nostrils flare at the sudden spark of consciousness between them, the realization that their bond went beyond duty, friendship, or the color of their blood.

He looked at his extended hand. Duz grabbed his fellow Hunter’s arm and he was drawn in for a firm embrace, armored vests colliding as Lex patted his back a couple of times.

He pulled his hood over his head and let the doors close in on him.

 

The journey going deeper into the bowels of the underground was long when he had his only thoughts for company. He found a wandering heartbeat, a derelict lifeform that smelled unmistakably of human waste, an old female who hadn't seen the light of day in many moons. Duz changed course and pursued the foul scent. He found her pushing a cart of discarded items, her gray hair sticking out from under a filthy hat, her form clothed in rags. The smell of her blood filled his head and the hunger washed all humanity from him.

Duz silently lunged and pulled her head back, holding her right arm in a joint lock and she yelped with fear and horror as his stinger extended from his mouth. He gorged himself until she weighed almost nothing in his grasp. The elderly woman had been on the streets since before the nuclear accident. She had survived because she was homeless and living underground, protected from the radiation. She had children that she had lost to her own dementia. He knew this because her blood, her emotions flowed through him, and this bond of consciousness would only last a minute. His mind went elsewhere as he replenished his energy, his strength returning to him and he found the courage to think of his kin.

He dropped the homeless woman in the dark tunnel and resumed his walk back to the nest.

They would smell the humans on him. They would see his thoughts and his creator would feel his memories as his own. He was nothing more than a pawn. They were forever his superiors, there was no escaping that dominance. There was no career evolution or rank promotion for strigoi. He was designed for one purpose only.

He arrived at the garage where the cars were parked. Even the Cadillac was there. Looking up, he thought about waving hello at the surveillance camera but the gesture would be interpreted as a provocation.

Unsurprisingly there was no welcoming party and he was made to walk all the way to the main hall of the Ancients. The lights were not on but he saw nevertheless and Vaun arrived. Lar was soon there, too.

“At last,” murmured Lar, “we were starting to wonder.”

Vaun directed for him to join them in the briefing room. There he saw the maps on the table and put his mind back in the game. They had to start on the attack plan.

“We rallied humans to our cause,” Duz flatly said. “They're ready to fight the Partnership with everything they have. I moved them to the nuclear shelter.”

Vaun cringed at the announcement and Lar stood straight, eying Duz with contained rage. The leader spoke.

“You did this why? To make these humans _like_ us? Were you hoping we'd start living with them all the while casually sucking on their veins?”

Vaun was furious. Obvious signs of wear and dullness were getting the best of him. Duz unlocked his teeth to give his reply.

“We need collateral,” he bitterly risked. “When we hurt the Partnership, we want them to get revenge on the humans - not us.”

Even Lar looked surprised while Vaun shifted on his feet, taking in a breath. His voice seemed to soften but he still growled all the same.

“You would betray your human friends, then. Care to explain why?”

Duz creased his brow, feeling his hate and anger growing in him.

“They are reckless and unpredictable. We can never become true allies.”

Lar scrunched up his nose and took a step closer. His stinger groaned and Duz felt his arm being forcefully grabbed. He was then pushed through the doorway and Vaun followed.

“Your words say one thing,” Lar said, “but everything else about you screams lies. So I wonder… would you lie to them?”

He tossed him in the middle of the sacred circle, like they would a prey destined to be eaten. Duz stumbled and tried to keep his head down in respect. The lights went on, almost as if to spite him.

He was strigoi, he could perfectly see in the dark. He didn't need to place his eyes on the elongated, blood-stained digits of his master.

His eyes came to life as he woke, rattling and clicking ominously as he stared down from his perch.

Duz looked up, feeling for the first time in very long the rush of adrenaline that had preceded his turning into an immortal. It had been centuries ago, yet it now felt like yesterday. The black orbs sunk into his soul, searching, finding what they needed to know.

They found everything.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It smelled of citrus and other plants he couldn't name. The tea that she drank before going to bed. The night was never completely dark because of the permanent clouds, reflecting the dim glow of the city lights into her small apartment.

She had grown accustomed to his presence and that night, she had chosen to forego self-defense training and rest while he spoke to her about his past.

He told her about his company, his first brothers in arms, the first man he'd killed in combat or at least he thought he did. He remembered that rainy night in the woods, losing his brothers one by one to an unseen and unknown enemy. He told her of Vaun and the Ancients.

And she listened, curious, absorbing his every word. She asked what was his real name.

She expressed how he looked familiar to her in an outlandish way, then proceeded to show him pictures on her phone of one of her favorite musicians who happened to wear horror masks. Duz laughed, but thought her to be a strange woman.

Then she asked him what he truly wanted to do instead of wasting time with her. He was honest and simply said he was exactly where he needed to be.

Despite a quiet evening Gwen had cried in bed, later that night. She didn't sleep until late and it was already the morning. He had to wake her up or else she'd get late for work, they couldn't let her change her habits and draw attention.

He had watched her from afar, taking to the basement alcoves and tunnels, listening in on her mild conversations with coworkers, sensing the lack of energy in her voice and heart rate.

She'd come home that night without having eaten much. Duz kept her from passing out then and there as she stood warming up soup in the kitchen.

When he asked to know what was wrong, she refused to talk honestly. It had made him angry. She said it was best that she didn't speak her mind because she was bad at keeping friends.

She was afraid. Afraid of herself more than she should have been afraid of him.

When she had eaten and regained some form of health, Duz made her leave her apartment that night. It was the first time he'd broken the rules. He lead her through the underground network, expertly leading her across the dark maze and she stopped her incessant questions when they went up to the surface.

His car was parked near an abandoned convenience store near Fort Hamilton. He made her sit in the passenger's seat and he took the wheel, making sure she wouldn't fall asleep by driving fast, the Tahoe handling itself safely in the snow.

“You're scaring me,” she said, voice trembling as she revealed an unsure mood. “Slow down.”

“Alright,” he obeyed. “We are out of Partnership territory. No one can find us here.”

He stopped next to a dirt path leading into a park. She climbed out of the car and dug her hands into her coat pockets, breathing clouds of warm air into the cold.

Duz started off on the path and turned on his heels.

“Are you going to stand there by yourself?”

She reluctantly jogged after him and he arched a brow, waiting for her to stop worrying.

“Why did you bring me here?” she complained.

He smirked at her and they walked together on the dirt road.

“I imagine it's been a while since you haven't been out of town.”

There was a lake, long frozen and unmoving, and a nearby picnic table stood lonely under a street lamp.

Duz found a garbage bin and dug in it.

“That's gross,” Gwen commented.

He pulled out two empty beer bottles and a tin can that he placed apart in a row on the table. He then grabbed her by the sleeve and walked twenty paces away with her. Then he turned around, pulling his SP01 from his holster. Gwen looked down at the handle he presented for her to take.

“I know what you're trying to make me do,” she bitterly said, “but all I'm going to achieve is drawing every strigoi towards us with all the racket.”

“So, you better hurry up and not miss.”

She crumpled her face with annoyance and took the gun in both her hands. She stood properly, feet slightly apart, using her right eye for aiming at arm's length. She missed once, twice, three times and took another breath. Her fourth shot hit the first bottle. Duz heard something move in the woods and it wasn't the local wildlife.

Gwen heard nothing. He suspected her ears were being deafened by the gunshots.

She took out the second bottle after a few more misses. The lack of recoil on the SP 01 certainly helped with speed.

Eight more rounds, he counted. The magazine held eighteen of them total. Four strigoi were headed towards their position.

“You're doing good,” he encouraged, hands reaching for an ammo clip stored in a pouch on his left thigh.

Gwen gave him a sideways look, but she stopped shooting. She screamed instead.

“Look out!”

Her warning was followed by a shot she fired and it hit a filthy infected straight through the neck. It fell thirty meters away. Duz instinctively pulled out a throwing knife and turned towards a tall former human that sprung towards them on the icy lake, sliding for the last few yards, and received a knife into his right eye socket.

Duz heard more firing and the remaining bullets were lodged into the ribcage of an attacker who had lost its jaw. It was only ten meters away.

“Out of ammo!” Gwen panicked.

Duz used his dagger to slash at the jawless strigoi, severing its head in one swift move. Gwen jumped away from the expelling white blood and worms. Duz took the gun from her and reloaded, showing her where to push to release the magazine. He then turned around and shot the fourth homeless strigoi at fifty yards, coming from the street. It fell with an unconvincing sound, spilling brains and worms in the dirt.

Silence returned, for now. He only heard Gwen's ragged breath. She didn't make eye contact with him and he could sense her fear coming back.

“We made it,” he said. “We're safe.”

“We're not supposed to be here,” she whimpered.

Duz sighed and couldn't stand seeing her so distressed. So helpless.

“But I am here,” he hissed, grabbing her shoulders, directing her eyes on him. “And you're alive. I saw you kill that first strigoi without even thinking about it.”

“Alright, I get it.” She raised her palms. “Thank you but we took a huge risk, and we should go home.”

Something in her expression made him think he had yet more to tell her. No words came to him to understand exactly what made him cling to her arms.

“What if I told you,” he began, searching his thoughts for a clue, “that going home is not a good idea right now?”

She searched his face, standing still and confused.

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying,” he hesitated, his voice a mere breath, “that all of this would be for nothing if we have to go back.”

She pulled herself away from him, containing her anger as she flared her nostrils, storming back to the car. Duz went after her. She stopped at the car, digging her hands inside her pockets as she waited for him to unlock the doors.

“I'm sorry,” he told her. “I didn't mean to scare you. But this is my life…” He caught his breath, looking back towards the four corpses they were leaving behind. “I help cleanse the world of the infected. And I wanted to know you can be safe with or without me.”

“Lesson learned, then,” she impatiently replied. “Please unlock the car.”

Duz reached for the key fob inside his pocket. Once they were both inside they sat in silence and Gwen sniffled, he watched a drop of water rolling down her cheek.

“Gwen…”

She wiped her face and sighed heavily, her lower lip trembling when she spoke.

“It's not your fault, none of it. Please, just drive.”

He did as she asked, unable to calm the ache in his chest, a pain that even his stinger wasn't able to handle.

The silence was deafening on the way back to her apartment. She had let him in once again, accepting that he was her bodyguard, and he hoped she would feel alright to sleep enough before work. Worrying, taking care of her, helping her made him forget his unnamed torment.

Until that night. When she had discarded her clothes Gwen showered as he waited in the living room. She came out later, wearing her sleeping garment, her wet hair wrapped in a white towel. Her swollen brown eyes were throwing spears at him. Her posture was slouched and she was clutching at her hands, scratching the skin which threatened to crack and bleed.

“I… I think I owe you an apology, or an explanation.”

Duz was concerned. He got to his feet and reached for her hands to stop her self-torture. She stepped away.

“I can't let you do that,” she said, looking at the floor between them. “Listen, I never asked to be with anyone who would do so much for me. I know you're following orders, but your presence has affected me more than I had feared. I never wanted this to happen.”

She finally looked at him, and Duz stared back, frustrated that she would keep her distance. Her heartbeat was all he heard, the warmth of her face made his own hands itching to touch her. Her fear could freeze him to death if he got too close.

“I'm so sorry,” he tried to say but his voice didn't cooperate. “What would you have me do?”

Gwen bit her lips and raised misty eyes up as she retained a complaint. Her bare toes curled on the floor. She berated him.

“You don't answer to me, you are your own person, can't you see that?” She brought her hands up to pull off the towel to dry her wet, black hair. Humid locks fell around her face as she nervously raked her scalp. She turned away. “It's best if you forget about me.”

“I can't do that.” He tilted his head to watch her. “Each of my cells regenerate, my memories never fade.”

She dropped on the couch, covering her face, holding her breath.

_Please breathe._

Duz put down a knee to get to her level, and placed a hand over her forearm.

“I don't want to remember you like this,” he softly told her.

She appeared to calm down when she regained some contenance, heaving her chest and shoulders and drying her face with the towel.

“It's too late,” she answered.

“No,” he reached up, raising her chin. “It's only the beginning.”

She held his gloved hand, blinking her exhausted, reddened eyes at him as he tried to smile. She smiled back, laughing at herself and shedding another tear.

“This is insane,” she weakly said.

Then she inspected their joined hands and moved to touch his face.

Her fingers traced the scar on his chin, the lines that ran across his jaw and stopped at the cheekbone. He felt her warmth and smelled her blood through damaged skin. Her expression was that of amazement, her fleshy lips parted in contemplation of him.

Duz felt his mind run wild, hunger, want and desire mixed together, but all he could do was to be still and quiet. He blinked and held her hands.

“I don't want you to ever forget about me.”

She swallowed and spoke barely over a whisper.

“I'd have to die first.”

He lowered his brow with sudden anger, enraged and furiously protective. The breath he let out was shaky when he rose and pulled her up with him, making her panic.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

She didn't look away, her face fully devoted to looking at him.

“No,” she said, her eyes squinting earnestly. “I couldn't stop thinking about you, day and night… You made me realize how lost I was.”

He brought her closer, circling her back, close enough so that their bodies touched. She sighed, laying her hands over the combat vest he wished so much wasn't there. Her head laid across his shoulder. The rumbling of his stinger calmed as he did, stroking her hair and letting her share his warmth.

“I found you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pain seared into his brain, five claws dug deep into his scalp, marking the skin, running white blood around his head.

Duz knelt on the floor, teeth clenched as he held his screams of agony. The memories were being exposed, made bare for all to witness. The feelings and thoughts he'd kept secret were being torn from his heart and mind.

He could only know that his sanity was fleeting, suffering in solitude as an animal being torn to bits with no hope of rescue. He was aware of Vaun, Lar and the others watching, standing helpless as his master extracted everything he held dear. Duz started to drool and bleed from his eyes and ears, supporting himself on the blood-red floor. His stinger revulsed and heaved, making him vomit the human blood he'd ingurgitated earlier.

Oh, how he wished to die that instant, if only it could help save her.

Just as he had articulated that thought, the hand lifted from him and the pain vanished, leaving him in a void of sensations, registering only his laborious breathing.

Nothing like this had ever happened to anyone. Nothing he had lived even compared to it. He looked up, his master looked back holding his defiance for a moment before returning to sit on his perch. He heard a heavy step and Vaun pulled up his arm. Duz spat the mix of blood and bile that lingered in his throat. Vaun grunted with disgust as he lead him away.

“Get yourself cleaned up. You reek.”

 

The halls were deserted on his way to the barracks. Not one brother or strigoi were there to greet him or even lay eyes on him. They all knew. There was no point discussing it.

Traitor, he thought. That was what they were calling him in their minds.

He dared not help himself in their livestock of humans to drink. He went straight for the showers, finding good them empty was a relief. He used whatever cleaning product was available, grateful that they kept some for their human guests, though Lex was the only regular. He thoroughly washed his alabaster carcass. The water was way too hot but he let it burn him, accelerated the healing of the claw wounds on his head. He then switched to cold water.

He caught himself thinking about her, as if his tortured mind refused to cave under the threats and fear of losing her. His brain was already recovering, making him relive the moments, one after the other.

There was no one available at the cleaning room and he washed his gear and clothes himself. He sat in front of the washing machines and looked at his phone not knowing what to tell Lex.

Maybe he could ask him to put Gwen on the phone. He already missed the sound of her voice, she always knew the right words to soothe him. But this was not her burden to bear.

He ran his hand over his face. What was the purpose of all of this? Could they not know about her already? What were they trying to discover by digging into his most private memories?

Also, if not for curiosity alone, why hadn't they looked into the shelter colony he helped create?

Once he was dressed again he went to the armory to review his equipment, replenish his ammo and clean his firearms. He heard Vaun approaching. Duz put down the oil canister and finished reassembling the Scorpion.

“I have no excuse or apology,” he told his leader and mentor.

He re-engaged the trigger mechanism into the polymer body and slid the pin into its slot. He armed the empty chamber and pulled the trigger for testing.

“I didn't come here to lecture you,” Vaun replied.

“Questions, then?”

He turned to look at him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His expression fixed with an attentive squint.

“We've all been there, Duz. Myself, Lar, even the Ancients.”

He chuckled at the thought of Lar ever losing control for anyone, or feeling anything short of disdain and hatred.

“I know how it ends,” he told him as he closed in, “she dies, and I get to live with the bitter memories for eternity.”

“Bring her here,” Vaun softly suggested. “Let her see for herself who we are. Who _you_ are. She deserves that much.”

Duz began loading bullets into his magazines. His stinger began to rattle.

“I just might.”

Vaun moved away. “It was not a request.”

He walked away, his combat boots leaving loud thuds in his trail.

“It’s _their_ command.”

 

Merely hours had gone by when he returned to the shelter. There had been no wanderers on his way and he still felt sick from his master probing into his mind. He was becoming used to smelling human food when entering the elevator, and he had to stop and look around once he was in the compound, trying to pinpoint Lex or Gwen. The two humans smelled similar to the guests they harbored.

Lex came to him from the dining place, his expression going from neutral to concerned. Duz walked towards the armory where he secured the black duffle bag he had brought.

Lex was about to close the door when hurried footsteps made him stop and they both looked at Gwen coming in. Lex nodded and shut the door.

“Duz,” she called, and without warning she gave him a hug. “I was asleep and didn't see you leave.”

He circled her shoulders and brought his face downward, smelling her hair. Lex furtively looked at them while he inspected the bag’s contents.

He lightly pushed Gwen away to look at her, guessing she had been eating from the scent of cooked food on her skin and hair, and the good mood she was displaying. Her brown eyes scrutinized him.

“What happened?” she worriedly asked.

Lex extracted a Scorpion and looked at the combat vest inside the bag, then suspiciously watched Gwen.

Her right hand was bandaged, with little blots of red staining the white gauze.

“The Ancients told me to bring you to them,” he said, holding her left arm. “They've been thoroughly digging through my mind, but that's not enough, apparently.”

Her eyes widened. He knew better than to keep things from her.

“Did they hurt you?”

He smiled at her concern, and caught Lex’s inquiring look as well.

“It was nothing I couldn't handle.” He raised his chin at Lex. “I convinced Vaun and Lar that we would use the human resistance as collateral. If we play this right, the Partnership won’t even suspect we had anything to do with taking down their facility.”

Lex sharply nodded. “Excellent.”

Gwen didn’t show the same approval.

“Harsh. But I get it.” She held her injured hand. “Take me to your Ancients. I guess we should clear the air with your friends before they see me on the field.”

Lex silently questioned Duz, then stepped towards Gwen, touched her arm as if to slow her down.

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you.”

“It’s better than sitting here, wondering,” she replied, breathing shallowly. “I’m driving myself mad with guilt.”

“I was spared,” Lex continued, his voice going soft but threatening nonetheless, “because of my skills as a killer. That is the only reason why they keep me around. Think this through, Gwen.”

She turned towards Duz in a desperate appeal. He shook his head.

“He’s right…”

She started panting and her face turned pale, she covered her mouth but her eyes stayed dry.

“There’s got to be another way… Elliot!”

He reached for her and failed to hold her close, she backed away towards the door.

“If you leave,” he told her regretfully, “never try to contact us again. They would find you.”

“I’m not leaving,” she almost shouted. “There’s nothing but death out there. You’re the closest thing I have to a family, so I’d rather take my chances with you.”

Lex exchanged a silent agreement with Duz. The muscles in his face were tense, despite his relaxed stature his mood was very close to anger.

“You have one chance of survival in the eyes of the Ancients.”

His heart rate had picked up speed, and Duz saw his growing unease as he spoke. He couldn't help but bite hard on his molars.

“If you carry a child,” Lex continued. “The Sun Hunters will spare expecting mothers, for the future of humanity.”

Gwen shook her head in disbelief.

“Fuck that.”

“I'm sorry,” he replied.

Before he could go on, Gwen was out the door and rushing down the hallway. Duz went after her but there was no stopping her without talking too loudly, drawing attention on them. She was back in her room, packing her bag.

“I'm not doing that,” she said, her voice growing tight. “I still own my body, don't I? Even if it means risking my life. So much could go wrong, raising a baby here, in these times.”

“No one is asking you that,” Duz slowly told her. “Lex is repulsed by the idea, but he cares about you living.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, running her uninjured hand over her face and hair as she fought against a sob. Anger seemed stronger than self-pity. Duz dared not step any closer. He was at fault for this.

“I couldn't… I'd never betray you,” she stuttered, “I'd rather die.”

“Then we die together,” he spoke in a calmness he was more familiar with. “And all of our work would have been for nothing.”

The hours spent training, the trust-building conversations, the nights when she lied next to him…

Her reddened dark eyes directed towards him and she took a deep breath, bracing the edge of the mattress.

“You have no choice, you have to take me to them. We get this over with, tonight.”

 

He had rarely ever felt out of his depths in the past, his whole life had been a linear sequence of learning, acting, reacting, rinse and repeat. But when something like emotions affected events out of their own volition, when people both seemed to want the same thing and yet were unable to agree upon one thing, he found himself at a loss.

He was grateful for Lex who stood by him, making sure no one followed them from the shelter, or that Gwen would not panic in case she changed her mind. He was ready to take care of things while Duz tried to manage his own part of responsibility. He would go down with the sentence whatever it may be.

It felt like déjà vu when they arrived at the great room of the Ancients, the floor had been mopped clean though it remained red. They stood at a distance and he smelled Gwen’s growing apprehension. Vaun arrived, rattling skeptically when he saw Duz and Lex.

“The Ancients will see you now,” he told Gwen, extending a gloved hand. “Come.”

She turned around to look at him, and at Lex, but her final glance was on him. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated in the dark, and her heart was beating fast. Duz kept himself from clinging to her as she took Vaun’s hand.

She walked away, being taken to the circle of the Ancients like a prey. Vaun stayed by her side and it was some form of relief.

His master woke from his dream state. Duz looked at her, tried to reassure her from a distance but he himself was on the verge of panic. His creator came down from his perch and for a moment Gwen stood her ground.

She was always like this at first, he contemplated. She was headstrong, valiant despite her own good reason.

But Vaun walked away, only a few paces, hands joined at his belt as he watched Gwen facing the Ancients by herself.

_No!_

His master parted his elongated lips and his stinger struck her to the neck. She almost fell backwards but went down to her knees instead.

Duz hadn't registered screaming that two Hunters were holding him back from running to her.

She was growing sickly pale already, her horrified gaze searched for him and, with her neck stretched out, her mute lips weakly articulated his name.

“Elliot…”

“Gwen!” he called, growling and thrashing against his brothers who held fast. His shouting turned into desperate cries. “Please, no!...”

She was already limp and inanimate, lying on her side, legs curled under her. Touching her neck, Vaun crouched down under the Ancient’s scrutiny, then carried her in his arms.

Duz kept shouting to go to her but Yoon and Lar dragged him away with all their might, resisting his every attempt to overpower them. He was out of strength, he was mad with hate, rage and sadness. They threw him into a locked cell where he continued making a racket, banging on the prison bars, kicking the chair and bed. After a moment he lost all will to keep on the outrage. He slid against the wall and sat on the floor. It was too late.

His heart was beating so hard he thought it would break his lower ribs and his head felt like it would implode. Angrily pulling off a glove, he ran his hand over his face, feeling warm moisture seeping from his eyelids.

She was gone.


	8. Lessons learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaun leads the Sun Hunters into Stoneheart tower to kidnap Eldritch Palmer. 
> 
> Gus and Lex are acquainted with each other. 
> 
> Lex comes to terms with his purpose as he is introduced to Quinlan, the Born who has lived long enough to have known almost every strigoi hunter before him.

Chapter 8: Lessons learned 

 

Elizalde fought and struggled for a moment but he was determined. Lex recognized combative men, those who grew up in tough environments, unstable families, bad neighborhoods and messed with the wrong crowd. A couple of captive newborn strigoi weren't the worst they ever had to face in life. 

He stood paces away behind Vaun while the new recruit trained. Vaun had left two bullets for him to use, a sign that maybe the old man was getting soft, and still Elizalde found reason to complain. 

Lex made no comments, observing the Mexican as he justified not obediently submitting to the Sun Hunters. Vaun stood to face him, listening to the young man's bickering and finally caved. 

“We're going to kidnap Eldritch Palmer.”

It was the will of the Ancients. While Lex wondered why no one dared question that decision, he leaned on Vaun’s wisdom and trust in his Makers. Perhaps there was a part of metaphysical foresight in this strategy, a reminder that he hadn't joined a mere group of mercs. 

Elizalde was not offered to wear the Sun Hunter uniform, his part was going to be specific and tailored for him, for these extraordinary circumstances. 

They prepared for deployment, memorizing the map of the Stoneheart tower, the infiltration and extraction plans, the exit points and persons of interest. 

Lex was careful to keep to the darkness, leaving his mask on in order not to stand out in the presence of Elizalde. If he found out that another human was part of the group, it would compromise his behavior. Men tended to either conspire together or threaten each other in adverse situations. He wasn't going to put the mission on the line with that type of risk, and anyway Lex was not good with people. 

Not with humans of that caliber. Even if he only wore a badge and a walkie at the airport, he still represented law enforcement. That kind of label stuck to a person for some time. 

They proceeded as planned and infiltrated Stoneheart Headquarters from two access points. Elizalde took the front entrance, guised as an elevator repairman, while Lex went with Vaun, Duz, Chen and Kad in the maintenance levels.

Elizalde had surprisingly delivered on his part of the job, successfully rigging the elevator as per the schematics instructions, allowing for the Hunters to access the top floor. 

His arms ached, they'd screamed if they could have, but Lex sustained the pain from hanging from under the elevator cabin for over a minute. Elizalde extended a helping hand which he gratefully took to pull himself up. He had kept his mask and shades on for his own reasons, and his Hunters comrades had decided on doing the same, despite being it night-time and being indoors, minus Vaun. 

Pistols out, they reached Palmers office, finding it unlocked and empty. This wasn't right. Palmer was supposed to be there according to the schedule they'd hacked from his internal network. Vaun held out his SP01, cautiously walking around the room, Elizalde was looking everywhere but Lex looked up and saw surveillance cameras in every corner. 

His gut told him this wasn't the right time to be there. 

He walked towards the door and suddenly the locking mechanism activated. They all turned to see what had made that sound. He went towards Vaun, he hissed and his stress level was peaking. 

“It's an ambush.”

A loud siren blared out an alarm signal. Then it was like the roof tore open letting it rays of blazing sunlight into the room. Kad, Duz, Chen and Vaun began to shout in pain. Lex looked up and found the projectors. He aimed and shot a few rounds towards them. 

“UV lights!”

“What the hell?” exclaimed Elizalde. 

The lights were protected by bulletproof glass. Lex rushed to pull Vaun out of the rays but they seemed to be guided or tracking them. One beam was on him and while it felt a little warm, he was unaffected. However, his strigoi friends were already being roasted. 

“Take cover!” he shouted, running towards the desk to protect Vaun under it. “Duz! Chen!”

The Mexican was pulling the rest of them towards relative safety behind the sofa next to the window. 

They were pinned down by the scolding lights and Elizalde kept trying to shoot at them. If they couldn't hold out this long, there would have to be another countermeasure. Lex knew Palmer had his own private contractors, he could have the office stormed at any minute. 

“The window,” Vaun shouted at him. “Use this!”

Lex took the square block in his hand and there was an adhesive side, the other had a detonator and timing triggering system. He knew this. He'd learned how to disarm them, so he could figure out how to set them off. 

The windows were shatter-proof for certain, but nothing could hold against two-hundred grams of Semtex. Lex gathered his breath and went out of cover to place the charge in the middle of the window for maximum damage. Once he pressed the timer, the countdown started from twelve seconds. 

He returned to Vaun and the leader cringed as he extended his arm, aiming his pistol at the IED. 

“What the fuck?” said Elizalde. “You can't-”

The shot fire and the whole bay window fell to micro shreds at the deafening explosion. Duz, Chen and Kad had already prepared their repel lines and clipped their belts. Lex hurried and did he same. 

They hooked themselves to the edges of the office and Lex kept himself from looking down. Elizalde was still crouched behind the sofa when Lex heard the doors opening at the back of the office, and there were gunshots. Automatic rifles. 

“Get over here!” he called the Mexican. 

Vaun and the others had sustained UV damage and had lost strength. Lex took onto himself to save Elizalde. Survival was more powerful than fear, he hurriedly caught Lex in his grasp. He rounded the repel line around Elizalde’s waist before securing it to his harness. 

“Oh boy, this does not look good.”

Lex expelled a ragged breath, holding tightly to the cable. His voice was hoarse with stress. 

“Don't fucking strangle me.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, circling his chest instead. 

He had to make a quick descent down the vertiginous tower, because the mercenaries were now shooting at them. No one could out-fall a bullet. Lex focused and tried to veer left and right but still heard the rounds whistling near his head and Elizalde’s. 

They were finally near ground when a sudden hit punched the air out of his lungs. Lex grunted as he took the shot square in his vest, not immediately realizing he should have been dead. He let go of the line when his feet touched the ground and the Suburban was already waiting. Duz was limping. Vaun, Chen and Kad were already inside and Eve was at the wheel. 

Elizalde got in first and Lex slammed the door right when Eve floored the pedal, roaring towards Downtown and Brooklyn Bridge. 

“They knew we would be there!” raged Elizalde, punching the roof of the car. 

Looking over to his left, Lex saw that Duz had been hit. His left pant leg was stained with strigoi blood and he was making a deep cavernous growl in his chest. Duz pulled off his mask and grimaced as he applied pressure on his thigh. Vaun let out a tired breath, sitting on the front passenger seat. He was running a gloved hand over his head. 

“Palmer had help,” he calmly said. “The Master knew we'd try something. We need a change of plan.”

“That would be nice,” Elizalde was sarcastic now. “We try to be smart, train hard, risk our damn lives and jump down a fifty floor tower… And all of that for what?  _ Nada _ .”

His words were left unanswered as Eve kept driving, her eyes moving from the windshield to the rear view mirror. Her eyebrows furrowed and Vaun turned around, looking with prejudice. 

“They're following us.”

Lex gave his own glance towards the back and spotted a black GMC truck three cars away, a textbook tailing method. Eve accelerated, took a few sharp turns and they entered an underground parking space. 

“Alright,” Vaun spoke grabbing his Scorpion from the floor, looking into the side mirror to check on Elizalde. “Look alive, people.”

Eve parked the car at the end of the floor, facing away from the farthest wall and while they waited she pulled out her own automatic machine gun.

“What are we doing here?” Elizalde almost seemed like he was worried. 

The other black SUV entered and appeared fifty yards in front of them. 

“Tying up loose ends,” explained Duz who cocked his rifle before taking a deep breath. “Stay in the car.”

“You're the one with a bullet wound,  _ ese _ .”

“I'll live.”

The opposite side gave no warning when they got out of their vehicle and started shooting. Lex thought about just rolling down his window to replicate, but waited Vaun’s orders. The bulletproofing was good enough to bounce off 5.56 caliber rounds from the mercs’ rifles and one of them even took a fatal wound just by standing at the wrong spot and caught a ricochet. 

They stopped firing with slight panic in their eyes and that was their queue. Vaun first opened his door, then Eve got out of the Suburban, shouldering her rifle to shoot at the mercs. Lex joined in and aimed at the henchmen running back to their car. He shot their tires, keeping them from running back to Palmer’s and eventually the car windows gave in. Duz killed two men while Vaun downed another. Lex heard only echoes of voices and one was still alive, calling for reinforcements on a radio. 

He walked around the truck, breathing shallowly as he aimed at the man sitting against the deflated back tire. He had a chest wound and was slowly bleeding out on the concrete floor. His face was terrified, eyes wide with fear as Lex aimed at his head. The merc was holding up a walkie to his mouth. 

“Need backup! Send-”

He squeezed the trigger, shooting a hole into the man’s skull, ending his voice and life. 

What if a backup squad was already on its way? He hurried back to the Suburban where Vaun and Eve were already getting inside. Lex barely had time to fully climb into the car that Eve drove out of the parking lot. 

Placing his Scorpion between his knees he anxiously gripped the stock, wondering what had just happened. 

“It's going to sound stupid coming from me,” Elizalde de broke the silence, “but that was some gangsta shit. Especially you, stone cold  _ hermano.  _ I ain't messing with you.”

Lex was pulled out of his thoughts when he realized Elizalde had been talking to him. He looked back at him, speechless, and nodded with relief once he remembered he had his mask on. 

Once back to base he walked beside Duz until they were at the barracks and disposed of their weapons and gear in the armory. Vaun was in a particularly irate mood and Lex knew better than to question what the next move was. 

Elizalde took care of that, which was all the more to his benefit when Lex removed his mask and gloves to wipe the sweat from his face. 

“We need a full change of perspective,” Vaun replied patiently, giving Elizalde a patronizing dark stare. “It's going to take some time before we act again, so you will be kept posted once that time comes.”

“Right, right… So what about payment, huh? I almost died out there covering your asses, if not for my boy over there I was toast without your Spiderman gear.”

All of them turned in unison towards him at the mention of burning. Except for Lex who conveniently kept his back towards the Mexican while he was dismantling his Kevlar vest. 

“Sorry,” Elizalde apologized, chuckling. “You guys were actually turning into pouched toast up there with those crazy lights…”

His voice trailed off and Lex felt his gaze upon him. 

Once they were done changing out of their gear to wear new ones, Lex took care to see that Duz would have his leg treated. He followed him to the next room where injuries were dealt with, a rudimentary infirmary with basic medical supplies. As they walked, Elizalde gave them a scrutinizing glance and Lex noted his arched brows. 

Much to his regret, he followed them. Lex rolled his eyes and let Duz sit down with pliers and a sewing kit on the table. He turned to face Elizalde who grinned and slapped his own palm with victory. 

“Hah! I knew it. Why didn't you say anything, man? I was hanging out there like an idiot thinking these guys were playing me like a fool.”

Lex spoke quietly and fast enough to make it clear he didn't want to have that conversation. 

“I didn't say anything because I wanted you to focus on the mission.” 

He went to assist Duz who was still losing blood and needed to extract the bullet from his leg. 

“So, what? You live here? Play house with these guys? Don't you have a family, people to look after?”

Lex was sitting and putting on surgical gloves while Duz tore the fabric of his cargo pants to clean the wound. He didn't look up and grabbed a scalpel, directing a desk lamp over the bullet wound. 

“I live here,” Lex mindlessly said. “I lost everything after that plane landed. Just like you.”

He leaned against the wall, watching him work on Duz, folding his arms in regretful thoughts. 

“So you're here for payback, too? Are they paying you?”

He internally laughed and looked up from the incision he was about to apply pliers to, unsure whether to scowl or humor his fellow human. 

“I do want to make things right, it's what everyone should say.” He went on pulling out the bullet from inside the off-white muscular tissues, dropped the lead into a plate. “But I negotiated my contract differently. I obey the Ancients, and they put their means at my disposal when myself or... my  _ people _ need assistance.”

“So, you're like partners… Sounds like a cool gig.”

Lex raised a corner of his mouth. He began stitching the strigoi flesh so that Duz would regenerate quicker. He had done it once before, he was starting to get the hang of it. 

“I am a Sun Hunter. There's no walking away from this gig.”

“You're saying you're gonna let them turn you or something? Bro… That's some hardcore shit. You know they lose their dicks, right?”

Duz growled and was clenching his teeth to sustain the pain. Lex almost felt uncomfortable bending over him so close to his groin and he looked back at a mocking Elizalde, this time taking on the parental scowling look. 

“Are you done?”

He calmed down and stopped chuckling. “Yeah, yeah… Sorry, man. It's just weird, y’know.”

Lex finished the stitching job and gave him a half-hearted reply. 

“I won't be turned, it's not something I think about anyways. They need humans working with them, you can understand why it comes in handy.”

“Well, you got me fooled back there. The way you killed that guy… he was already done. What are you, like before all this? A hitman or something?”

Duz was closed up and ready to leave, still limping slightly but he seemed to want to be out of the room as fast as possible. Lex carefully cleaned the table and took off the gloves. He maintained strict hygiene even if there was no risk of infection for him: Duz, like the others, didn't have any worms. That was a privilege reserved for the Ancients. Elizalde stayed to hear his answer. 

“I was a TSA officer. I never killed anyone before tonight.”

The Mexican looked back with a harsh stare for a few long seconds, then smiled again. 

“I knew you TSA pricks were total psychos.”

“It's common knowledge at this point,” he agreed with humor. “Sadly most of my coworkers didn't make it passed a week after the outbreak. The virus thrived in the airport, it spread like wildfire, reaching every town, every country. Me and my friend got lucky, and she's still out there, taking care of her parents.”

Elizalde was now listening respectfully, nodding. 

“I lost my brother. My mother, and my best friend to this damn crap. I hope your friend’s luckier.”

“So do I.”

Somber, he found his mind moving back to the last moment he had seen her, taken away from the Ancients’ nest while he had chosen to stay. She was fighting her own battles, alone. He was with a new family, wanting for nothing, fearing nothing. 

Suddenly, a hand stuck out for him to shake. 

“I hope we can help each other out, brother. What's your name?”

He looked at him, then accepted the handshake. “Lex.”

“It's good to know you, Lex.”

 

A week went by after Gus left to deal with his own business. Lex watched the blank browser page on his laptop, mind drifting as the minutes rolled and still no data was downloading. He'd used a bandwidth enhancer on his 3G modem and still received nothing. The servers were just slowly shutting down, one after the other. 

Finding historical facts and evidence about strigoi was difficult without the internet, and he didn't see himself casually walking into a library. Lex downed his lukewarm cup of unsweetened coffee and closed the lid of his laptop. He didn't lock the door when he left his room, aware that no one in the compound was interested in snooping on each other. 

He had taken off his Sun Hunter uniform and put on his regular clothes of jeans, dark shirt, turtleneck sweater and black jacket. His old boots felt comfortable after spending over a month using different combat boots. 

When he walked towards Vaun’s room he stopped at the door of his neighbor. Duz was sitting on his cot, taking off his vest and equipment before sleep. He looked up at Lex as he undid the velcro straps. 

“I'm heading out,” he told the strigoi. “Do you need anything?”

It was a habit of politeness and Duz was puzzled by the question. 

“Where are you going?”

Lex glanced at the hallway, mindful that most were going to sleep for the day, he stepped in the room.

“To find a library, I figured I'd try to get educated on strigoi history, maybe understand this whole Master business.”

Lex did not hope to have company, even while trained to withstand daylight with protective gear, strigoi weren't comfortable under the sun for prolonged time. Duz undid his zipper and hissed with a cynical smirk. 

“You won't find anything in mainstream publications. If you want to know the light version, watch those old horror movies that came out before color television.”

Lex hesitated to agree with him, having decided to take the more academic route, hoping to find new perspectives on how to bring down the Master. 

“Do we have any sources to learn from? Besides the Ancients…”

There was suspicion in Duz’s expression when he looked up at him and Lex had braced himself for a lesson on the undeniable wisdom of the Old Ones. 

“They tell us what we need to know when the appropriate time comes.”

“It's been a few days now, I thought we could come up with a plan to take down the Master when he's vulnerable.”

The news had spread quickly through strigoi channels and he was told of it by Vaun. There had been an attack on the Master, which meant that they weren't the only ones coming after him. There was hope yet, and staying put, waiting for orders was eating at Lex. 

“You need to focus on your part and be patient,” Duz told him. “There's a purpose to all of this, just have faith.”

But Lex had nothing to say to such a request. He gave Duz a nod and left the room. He decided to leave without speaking to Vaun, expecting that the conversation wouldn't be much different. 

He found his car in the garage, far in the back where he had moved it to make space for the SUV’s. The tank was only half full, so he made a mental note to find some gas on the way back. 

Driving himself after some time of letting someone else take the wheel gave him a form of relief, feeling in control again. He was free, if he so wished, to leave and never look back. Only his vow to end the plague and fight the Master bound him to the Sun Hunters. Honor, and self-preservation demanded it. 

It was lightly snowing in Brooklyn and he found the streets relatively calm that morning. Out of habit, he went to his apartment building. Parking the Hyundai in the closest alley, he made sure he had the SP01 in his holster as well as his switchblade. 

He entered through the maintenance door and reached the basement. 

People still held themselves up inside their homes and most of them guarded the front door, set up booby traps, or simply placed alarms to deter looters. Lex had no intention to scare his old neighbors, he only wanted to pick up a few books. 

There were blood stains on the walls and floors. Many doors had been breached. Pistol out, he cautiously made his way to his place. He couldn't find any corpses, meaning that the attacks had occurred over two days ago and the victims had turned and moved out to infect others. 

His door was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, holding the knob he turned it with his left hand while he placed his right index on the trigger. Swinging the door open, he checked all corners and entered. There were no sounds, not a single click or rattle, and he found no one. There was a note placed on his desk where his laptop used to be. The handwriting, while shaky and uneven, was familiar to him, he had no trouble deciphering the foreign words. 

_ Son, we hope you are safe and far from here. If you read this we tried to contact you before deciding to leave. We are taking a boat to Prague where your uncle lives.  _

_ Please be careful. We love you.  _

They never spoke to him in English, and he doubted anyone else in the neighborhood could read Czech.

Lex left the written note where it was, a bitter taste filling his throat as he recalled the face of his parents. He hadn't seen them in three years. 

He quickly picked up the dusty books from his shelves. He didn't have time to select which ones so he took all of them and threw them in a old shopping bag. Even the Lord of the Rings trilogy. 

When he returned to his car he spotted a familiar black Cadillac driving by his building. Lex recognized the plate number. What was Eve doing out here? He hurried to his car, placed the bag on the passenger seat and drove after her. 

She was one block ahead. He kept his distance, knowing her reaction when she knew she was being tailed, following her around for five minutes until he suddenly lost track of her car. He looked in all directions except for one. 

Someone honked behind him. Eve was in his rearview mirror, walking out of her car, one hand placed in her back to certainly pull out her gun. 

Lex repressed his smile as he rolled down his window. 

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Why are you following me?”

“What are you doing out here?” he retorted. 

“Could've asked you the same.”

“So, you know this man?”

He startled at the male voice speaking from the other side of the passenger window. Lex saw a pale man in a hooded jacket and long back coat, wearing sunglasses. On one side of his coat, Lex noticed a small red emblem. The mark of the Sun Hunters.

He hesitated to say how he and Eve knew each other and found himself staring at the face of the stranger. He noticed a weird weapon with a handle made from a bone slung across his back

Eve let out a sigh and let go of her pistol. 

“He's with us.”

 

Eve brought her strange guest back to base. Lex couldn't take his curious gaze off of him as they walked into the underground compound. His eyes were clear white with blue undertones under a certain light. 

“My name is Quinlan,” he said, speaking in a British accent. “Eve tells me you joined the Hunters recently. Lex, is it?”

He tried to factor in the courteous tone, the casual introduction and the fact that he'd never heard of him before. Lex searched his words. 

“Alexej Havlik. Vaun recruited me, I used to work at the airport.”

“Havlik,” he enunciated with a pensive crease in his brow. “The name sounds familiar. I may have run into your old relatives during my time in Prague.”

He stopped in his stride, confused in the midst of the note he'd found earlier in his apartment and the mention of his birthplace. Why did this all matter now? Lex pushed the interrogations to the back of his mind. 

“So, you're a Hunter as well,” he told Quinlan. “How… what are you precisely?”

Facing him, only a few inches taller Quinlan calmly smiled before he answered. 

“I am strigoi, and also human. I was born with both attributes while still in my mother's womb.”

The concept eluded him. The pure biology of the strigoi strain was a mystery in itself, but to have it injected into an unborn child seemed mind-boggling. Quinlan looked lean but strong, standing straight as a mast, his face had many old scars but retained the underlying shape of youth. He did not look as young as Chen or even Duz, but he was definitely not as affected by the ages as Vaun. 

“You came here to help us defeat the Master?” he assumed. 

“I have felt his presence,” Quinlan said, rigid in his posture, “and wherever he is, I am there.”

Lex raised an eyebrow, waiting for clarification. The born strigoi stared back at him, unblinking. 

“I am the Master’s son. While he may not control my actions or read my mind, I am still bound to him.”

Quinlan spoke no more and Lex had trouble processing the idea that a son of the deceitful ancient existed all along and was willing to help… At what cost? Nothing in the real world was ever that easy to achieve. 

Before they could reach the hall of the Ancients, Lar arrived and planted his feet in front of them, shooting daggers from his black eyes at Quinlan. 

“And now you show yourself, Born.”

“The Master has been weakened,” Quinlan said matter-of-factly. “I need to know who did it. Where is Vaun?”

“Right here.”

They all turned to see who was behind them and Lex let his arms drop to his side with relief. 

“Good.” Quinlan both gave them a commandeering glance, clasping gloved hands in his back. “At least none of you are actually risking anything, staying here while the Master is out there, looking for a new host.”

Vaun grimaced and crossed his arms while Lar menacingly growled. 

“We went after his goons, if you care to know,” Vaun defensively replied. “They knew we were coming. They have countermeasures against strigoi, and top security detail.”

It all seemed like an already told story when Quinlan gave him a scornful look, as if he knew. Vaun lowered his hooded head, still baring the burn marks over his scalp he was trying to hide. 

“We failed. We tried the direct approach, and now a pawnbroker managed to get more results.”

“A pawnbroker?”

“Abraham Setrakian. We’re tracking him down.”

Quinlan turned on his heels to face Lex. He looked back at the tall half-man, half-strigoi with a raised eyebrow, his stomach knotting.

“A vy, jaká je vaše role v tomto?”

He sounded other-worldly just by speaking in his refined accent, but Lex hadn’t expected hearing Czech right that moment. He had asked him what was his part in this. Hesitant, he reviewed his impact and responsibilities, feeling himself as an oddity among straight-forward executioners. Lex preferred being a provider of ammunition. With different meanings.

“Poskytuji střelivo.”

Smirking, Quinlan took a step aside and resumed his way towards the hall of the Ancients. This time Vaun groaned, annoyed while Lar let out an impatient sigh. 

“I didn’t know he spoke Czech,” Lex apologized.

“You will go with him,” ordered Vaun, “if Setrakian is close to the Master he will need help.”

Lex considered his civilian clothes and his lack of kevlar.

“You’re already dressed for the part,” Lar told him as if he’d seen his hesitation. “We need to move quietly through the city, and you’re one of our extensions now.”

“How about some backup? Insurance of some kind?”

Vaun and Lar gazed at each other incredulously as if Lex had spoken in yet another foreign language. Vaun scolded him. 

“You don't need backup with Quinlan.  _ He's _ your insurance.”

He took the hint and made it to the armory to pick up a few supplies, he returned just in time to the garage as he saw the Born making his way to the Cadillac. He spoke out to him without turning around. 

“I was under the impression that you would be busy sorting your library in alphabetical order.”

Damnit, the huge bag of books. 

Lex reached the other side of the car and opened the passenger's door. Eve disapprovingly twisted her face. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Vaun’s orders.”

“I never said you could take  _ my _ car.”

He considered for a moment how old she was, the slight tension in her neck and her wide eyes made him understand that his mere presence did not make her comfortable. He closed the door and took a polite step back. 

“It's alright, Eve. I'll take mine, no proble-”

“No,” dryly interrupted Quinlan, staring harshly at the woman. “Do explain yourself.”

She shifted, nervous, folding her arms against her breasts. 

“I just don't want him in my car, end of story.”

Lex granted her the right not to like him and went to the Hyundai, moving the bag of books to the backseat. Quinlan joined him as he started the car, placing his strange sword alongside the door before sitting.

He looked around and buckled his seat belt as Lex turned the key in the ignition. 

“Women usually get that vibe from me,” Lex idly said, watching Eve move back into her car, and she was watching them exit. “I stopped trying to understand.”

“Still, what she did was unprofessional,” Quinlan responded with an even duller tone. “Unless her suspicions about you are valid.”

Lex merged into traffic and gave him a unconcerned eye. He placed his right hand at the top of the steering wheel and drove in silence. 

He had never asked, in his thirty-five years, to become the kind of monster he felt inside and guilt crept up in his chest like an elusive foreign creature.

Controlling his breath to stay alert, Lex wondered if having a stinger felt like this, to some extent.

“Right here,” Quinlan pointed towards a brickwalled industrial complex. “Underground, beneath this compound.”

Lex parked the car towards what he identified as a maintenance building with access to sewage and water flow monitoring. His passenger pulled up his hood and put on his black shades before stepping out of the Hyundai, while Lex picked up his backpack with the Scorpion rifle and frag grenades.

“Just so we’re clear,” he shot out to Quinlan as they headed for the steel door. “Whatever’s down here, I have intentions to come back alive.”

“Then stay in the vehicle.”

He couldn’t tell if he was looking at him behind the sunglasses but Quinlan pulled the door open, breaking the lock with a brutal yank on the handle.

Navigating the underground without infrared goggles or even a flashlight made Lex feel unnerved. Quinlan never skipped a step or tripped on a ledge, so he followed his lead. Remaining as quiet as possible, Lex pulled out the silencer from his pockets and began attaching the screw cap to his SP01. Despite his efforts, Quinlan looked over his shoulder at him. 

“That won't be necessary,” he said. “Where we're going, thousands of strigoi will be waiting. Noise will be the last of your concerns in the Master’s nest.”

“Force of habit.”

They walked across a network of pipes, stepping grated passageways until Quinlan listened to sounds Lex couldn't hear over industrial noises of the pistons and automatic valves. Quinlan turned his bald head around slowly. 

“Soon, Mr. Havlik, you'll get to demonstrate the heritage of your ancestors.”

Lex eyed him perplexedly when he could himself hear the distant screech of a strigoi. Even closer, the hungry sounds of a stinger accompanied the arrival of a first attacker. Quinlan raised a hand above his head to grab the femur sticking out from his back. 

His SP01 was up as he aimed for the pale skull and wide open mouth that were taunting them. Quinlan turned to fight back just in time. The skull was severed just as Lex was about to pull the trigger. Before the strigoi hit the ground, his new ally was already slicing up a second minion, eyes black and red sclera bulging out of their orbits as they saw who was opposing them. 

Its neck blew white and worms just as it deployed its stinger at Quinlan, Lex fired a second shot into its right eye. Quinlan kicked it so that the corpse fell out of his path. 

Lex felt the hair stick up on the back of his neck and turned around as if something was breathing over him. His left hand reached for the dagger at his belt, and he swung at the strigoi creeping up on him. The silver blade burned and tore at the translucent flesh, spraying worms over him and his muscle memory kicked in, rolling backwards to put some distance between him and the infectious material. 

Back on his feet, he extended his pistol in one hand, shooting at the next moving target: a smaller strigoi, sized like a child. It moved, and fast against the walls, until it disappeared like a spider into the lower levels. 

“You can handle yourself,” Quinlan commented sliding his sword back in its sheath. “Good. I see you were well trained.”

They continued down the flight of stairs to pursue the nest. Lex felt questions nagging him. 

“You knew my ancestors?”

“Strigoi hunters, from father to son, to daughter. Your lineage was a proud family of fighters.” He paused while standing on top of a platform, looking up at him with an almost apologetic expression. “I was honored to have known your great grandfather, Jaromir Havlik.”

“You seem to know more about my family than I do myself.” Lex continued walking, feeling more comfortable if they weren't eyeballing each other at that moment. 

“Perhaps it was deliberate, when the plague was dealt with in the nineteenth century, Jaromir swore to bring peace to his descendance. Sent his children into hiding.” Quinlan slowed his pace, only slightly looking to his side as he calmly spoke. “Then communism did its part of destruction, I lost track of them and the plague did not resurface.”

“Until now.”

Quinlan nodded pensively. “And here you are, at the heart of the cataclysm, able and ready. Would you say that this was fate, Mr. Havlik? Or rather, that a long lost family member has been foreseeing this event, and made it so that you had the means and power to defend yourself when the time comes?”

It felt like a kick to the stomach. 

Lex was back in the dark alleyway, acrid rain falling down his face and blood filling his mouth. He heard his bones break. Pain had replaced breathing, a desperation had supplanted fear. They never said anything, or so he thought he remembered, the memory was a blur. Four, maybe five of them, strong men in balaclava. Mafia men. They never asked him anything, never threatened him, they just beat him down to an inch of his life. He was twenty-five, full of dreams and American optimism. He was going to get a degree in electrical engineering. 

“It's a harsh world we live in, plague or no plague,” Lex told him, trying to be realistic. “Sometimes, you get a wake up call, and you decide to act and change your life.”

“Call it however you like, Alexej. I, for one, am glad Vaun got to you before the Master did.”

Lex blinked and pressed two gloved fingers on the bridge of his nose. 

“Vaun also knew and he didn't say anything?”

Quinlan's mouth raised with a smirk. “That is proof that he treated you fairly.”

They arrived at a hatch and Quinlan paused before grabbing the opening handle. They heard commotion, gun shots through the steel and concrete walls. Lex readied his Scorpion this time. If they were near the Master, he needed more than just a semi-automatic. 

“Mind this entrance,” whispered Quinlan, keeping his ear towards the door. “Let me introduce myself to Setrakian, then we take on the Master.”


	9. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To join the Sun Hunters one must be chosen. 
> 
> To survive the challenges of life and death, one must make the right choice... 
> 
> Until there are no choices left.

Chapter 9: Free

 

There was a light, blinding and hot. She barely opened her eyelids that she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. 

Her head threatened to implode. Every breath was a battle. Her throat burned and she coughed. All of her muscles were in pain and she wondered if she had gotten into a car accident. And in the midst of her torment, her lower abdomen began to twitch as well.

Great, that was just what she needed.

Moving her head to the side, she could finally open her eyes now that she was facing the light over her. She was in a room of concrete walls, and there was a desk, a steel closet, trunk and a single chair. Moving her head just a little more to the left, she saw a closed door. There were no windows. 

She tried to move and noticed she was wearing just her undershirt and trousers. No socks. She lied on top of a cot with no blanket. Still, she was sweating. 

The fever. The sore throat. 

Her memories returned to her and Gwen recalled the first week back to work after the lockdown at JFK. People had started showing these symptoms when they were infected, she had been cautious not to get close to them. 

She had taken all the precautions for over a year. Why was this happening now? 

A spout of coughing interrupted her trail of thought. She flung her legs to the side of the bed and sat up in one motion, keeping herself from laying back down again. She kept coughing and almost gagged, tasting bile in her throat. 

Water. 

She got up despite her entire body screaming to be placed horizontally again, and staggered towards the desk. There was nothing to drink there. The door was locked when she tried it, and she banged her fists on the metal panel, coughing too much to be able to call for help. 

She remembered her attempt to call Elliot but was unable to, stunned by shock and horror. Her damp hands went to her neck and she felt a fine trace of a cut on her jugular. The terrifying face of the Ancient that stung her was everything she could see now. Its absent nose, tiny black eyes, inhuman expression of a predator and the thought that it was part of her now. 

Gwen felt pressure behind her eyes, on top of the headache she had, she began to repress her tears. Fighting to breathe calmly, she thought of Lex and tried to figure out how he could help her, what he would do in this situation. She needed to get out, to find something to unlock the door, to do  _ anything _ . She needed to feel in control again. 

She pulled open the drawers and found ammo clips, bits and pieces of firearms she had learned to identify for her job. There was also a couple of old, rusty knives. She took one, it was a foldable hunting knife with a wooden handle, the blade was still sharp. 

Her ear drums began to hum and ring loudly inside her brain and she clung to her temples at the searing pain, dropping the knife, reduced to sit in a fetal position under the crippling torture she endured. She barely understood what sounds she heard, but most of them were of engines, machines, even static electricity.

And suddenly it faded, only leaving her to hear a soft murmur, like the voice of thousands of people whispering.

Panting, Gwen tentatively poked at her ears, expecting the sound to be muted if she plugged her ear holes, but she could still hear it the parasitic noises.

The door opened with a loud crank and she saw black combat boots and knee pads entering and stopping before the door closed.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

She raised her eyes to look at who it was, she shut her eyelids again because it stung.

Vaun groaned as he got to her level, putting a knee down and leaning forward to take a look at her. She watched his black eyes circled with red, squinting before he lifted her hair away from her forehead. His gloved palm stayed on her head for a few seconds.

His deep gravelly voice made her ears ring. “You will need to feed in a couple of hours.”

“I need some water,” she spoke, her own voice hoarse and painful.

Vaun stood, and as he did so, he lifted her by her arms and almost carried her back to bed.

“No,” he replied, “you need blood. We almost lost you yesterday, so I gave you a transfusion.”

He sat down with a tired sigh and she watched him toying with black strands in his gloves.

Black hair.  _ Her  _ hair.

“What’s the point?” she complained, digging her nails into the thin mattress. “Keeping me here makes no sense.”

Keeping her alive, turning her. She knew she wouldn’t belong there, she would only cost them resources, time and work. She sniffled but refused to let her tears show. It hurt. She knew she was making it hard on herself by resisting her condition.

Vaun rested on his elbows and meshed his fingers.

“Times are changing,” he quietly told her. “Humans, strigoi… the lines are blurring, we’re forced to share territories and compromise our old principles. You saw what it did to people on the surface, it twists their minds into believing they’ve found peace.”

He paused to give her a cautious look. Gwen scratched her scalp, only to find her hand full of her shedding hair. Her throat locked and she had a hick-up of shock. There was a bald spot on the right side of her head. She covered her mouth and felt a burning tear roll down her cheek.

“Shh…” he lightly patted her back. “I can bring you some water, for now. How does that sound?”

She nodded if only to spare him the pain of watching her cry.

Once the door shut again and she was alone, Gwen found her socks and shoes at the foot of the cot.

She tentatively opened the door and looked into the dark hallway. Finding nobody outside, she stepped out, wrapping her black coat around her and using her hood to appear inconspicuous. She walked close to the wall, steadying herself at times when her head began to spin. Her ragged breath resonated in her own head.

Hoping to find Duz or Lex, she realized once she was too far gone that she didn’t know where they could be. She tried the next door she found but it was locked.

Someone touched her shoulder and she startled with a muffled yelp.

“It’s only me,” Vaun reassuringly said, he had a bottled water in his other hand. “Who are you looking for?”

Unsure of whether she should be fully honest with him, she tried to focus her thoughts on what she truly wanted.

And drew a blank.

Vaun pressed his lips together and straightened his back.

“With time, your mind will clear, keep you from wandering about like a headless chicken.” He produced a low rumble with his chest. “Duz and Lex aren’t here. But they’ll come back.”

“I’m not a child,” she protested, able to open her eyes wide now that they were in the dark. “I’m looking for the bathroom… I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

His low rumble sounded more like a growl.

“Alright, then.”

Vaun showed her to what they called a bathroom and left her alone again. There were sanitaries, much to her surprise, a communal type of washroom with dull lighting and rusty showerheads. There was a bottle of care products on the edge of a sink. A toothbrush, an electric shaver. Those belonged to Lex.

She gathered the shower gel and one of the towels hanging on a drying rack before taking off her clothes. The smells of body odors, while her own, made her more sick than she already was. The water was cold and she turned the red knob until it was comfortable to stand under the spray and she scrubbed herself clean, planting her feet on the old tiles so as not to slide and fall. She would have to thank Lex for choosing unscented hygiene products, though it was probably a tactical decision for him. 

Looking down, the swirls of white foam went down the drain and soon it turned black. Raking her scalp, she found more locks of hair falling by the handful. She found no point in crying, she should not be grieving hair loss when she was supposed to be dead.

She tied the towel around herself and moved to the sink with the care products. There was a mirror on the wall.

It was the first time she saw the outline of her actual skull. She’d grown so pale she could see blue veins around her eyes and mouth. On the edges of her scalp and back of her neck, locks of hair still clung to her.

Her trembling hand reached for the clippers.

 

Covering herself with her coat, she later returned to Vaun’s room where she found clean clothes he had laid out for her on his cot: a black shirt, black form-fitting underwear and cargo pants of the minimum size. There were sport socks, and also a pair of brand new size five combat boots. She stood facing the new set of clothes - the uniform - that Vaun was offering her. The Sun Hunter outfit. Her fingertips brushed the textured lines on the shirt, the same one Elliot wore under his armor. 

The material she felt recalled a memory, a specific smell and the precise tone of voice she heard when he’d spoken to her. 

_ I love you. _

Her eyes closed, she clung at the shirt in her palm and fought hard not to feel the creeping guilt that ate at her. Her stubbornness, her idiocy had gotten herself almost killed. Now, she was lost again, changing and turning into… what, exactly? A strigoi that wasn’t a Sun Hunter was a dead strigoi.

She was not one of them.

She was no one.

“You are with us.”

She gasped at the sound of Vaun’s voice, leaning against the door frame. Of course, she had left it open. Of course, she was careless. It was comforting to know she was still herself in some ways. 

Vaun came in and shut the door. Gwen tried to swallow, panicking slightly because she was naked under her thick coat.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he continued and stood beside her. “You didn’t sign up for this, you’d rather be on your own, fending for yourself… Well, tough luck, kid. You’re gonna have to deal with me, now.”

At least she no longer felt pain in her muscles, and the fever seemed to have stabilized after the warm shower. Vaun tilted his head and gently smiled.

“Nice haircut.”

She smiled back, mechanically running a palm over her smooth shaven head. Her tongue was still tied with mixed emotions.

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Wait,” she stopped him before he left. “I need my bag… girl stuff.”

The sound he made was predictably annoyed. He looked up and down at her and sighed.

“You won’t need them anymore.”

But she knew something wasn’t right. Ignoring her pain didn’t make it go away. If anything, she didn’t want to make a mess in her new clothes.

 

The empty bottle of water stood empty on the floor near the bed and she lied there with her legs curled, hands clutching at her belly. Passing time, she ran the tip of her tongue over her front teeth, feeling them slightly pointing down. At least she was no longer sweating; she figured that her body was adapting to the new temperature and her sensitive hearing no longer caused pain. The light was off and she could see everything in the room anyway.

Sighing, she let out a moan and was shocked to hear another voice.

_ Her _ voice. The one she produced through her chest. It was there.

Gwen tried again, producing a simple tone, and there it was again. She clutched at her breast and sat up, breathing in deeply, feeling the vibration of a new organ trying to express itself through her. Trying to stay calm she felt it creeping up in her throat, trying to make its way out, to feed.

“Not yet,” she whispered after swallowing it back down, which had no direct effect. “There’s nothing for you here.”

She could feel it reeling inside her chest, pushing her lungs around in protest and she growled back with anger.

It stopped. Gwen grinned at her own achievement. Now she knew why the strigoi appeared so grumpy.

When she left the room once more she went directly to the bathroom, keeping her head down with her sweatshirt hood up. She entered a stall and hurriedly undid her belt and pushed down her trousers to relieve herself. At least the pain was gone but in her experience that didn’t mean it wasn’t an emergency.

Something came out of her and her face twisted with fear and disgust. She waited five minutes to make sure she wouldn’t have to come back later, then unrolled a yard of toilet paper. She reached down and froze.

She got up and cringed as she looked. There was no blood, not a single drop. Instead, a big lump of red matter was at the bottom of the toilet bowl and if she remembered her biology right, that looked well like a uterus and a couple of ovaries. A myriad of questions jumbled up in her brain. She mentally apologized to Vaun for clogging the pipes as she pressed the lever to flush the upsetting contents.

Her face was completely blank when she was in the hallways again, and she looked down right when someone passed by her. He stopped and called out.

“Up already?”

The Hunter had his hood down, his face was rounder than Elliot’s, his eyes slightly smaller than Vaun’s. His marks were barely visible. She watched him study her as he stepped closer, taking in a whiff of her.

He smelled of blood, fresh, nourishing blood that woke up her hunger. She wondered where he had found his sustenance. 

“I am Lar,” he told her calmly. “You need your strength, young one.”

She looked at his extended left hand, suspicious of the invitation.

“Come with me,” he insisted, his breathy voice not as inviting as she liked. “You don’t want to find yourself starving on your first day.”

The idea sent her stinger into a fit and she had trouble calming the rattle and clicking in her ribcage. She placed her hand into his gloved one and clenched her jaws, unable to speak when her throat was tight.

“Control will allow you to be operational,” Lar explained as they walked towards the farthest side of the compound, across halls she didn’t know about. He had let go of her hand. “But hunger will drive you mad if you do not heed it.”

“How long can you go without...  _ eating _ ?” she almost covered her mouth, having spoken with dual tones at him.

Lar stretched his lips to a kind smile before answering.

“It depends. The longest I’ve gone was a full month. Not my proudest achievement, near the end I had lost all sense and reasoning.”

The room he brought her to was a kind of jail with barred gates and she had expected it to be silent.

She was hammered with the incessant beating of hearts, pulses assaulting her ears, brain and waking her stinger for lunch time. When they walked in front of the cells, she saw the individuals as red shapes lying on beds much like hers. Unmoving, but breathing. She could see their entire circulatory system.

“Who are all these people?” she whispered, barely containing her new organ.

“Better off here than wasting away,” Lar told her quietly. “We feed them, keep them warm and healthy.”

“Sounds familiar,” she bitterly remarked, looking back at him.

Lar opened a cage, she didn’t see it any other way, and let her in to stand over the sleeping form of an elderly man dressed in rags.

“Our presence in this world is… questionable, at best. This is the impact each of us has upon the living, we live with this responsibility. But we limit ourselves to strict survival needs.”

“You keep these here for the Ancients, don’t you?”

There was no other explanation. She had been brought in to feed one of them, no consent had been given, no permission asked. Lar gave her a hard stare.

“They are here to die, young one.” He placed a heavy hand over her shoulder. “If I send you to find your own drink, you won’t be able to stop. You would lose the gift of sentience.”

Her chest was threatening to burst as if the creature inside of her was the alien parasite from that movie franchise she used to love. She moaned a complaint and clutched at her breast.

“Feed yourself.”

The stinger obeyed beyond her will, parting her lips open wide enough to give way for the proboscis to plunge at the nearest aorta.

Gwen shut her eyes tightly, refusing to see this happening, yet feeling her energy returning with each second. It felt like she was absorbing her own weight in blood. When she opened her eyes again, the old man still had not moved, but his skin had turned to a pale tone. Lar softly pushed her away, rumbling a low frequency in his chest and Gwen felt herself calming down. Her stinger released the poor man and backed away inside of her, leaving her panting. She reached for her face, feeling warm fluid seeping at the torn corners of her lips.

“Is he… dead?”

She could hear an irregular and abnormally slow heartbeat, and heat was escaping from him, his form turning an almost pale shade of yellow.

“Not yet.”

They left the prison halls and she noticed she could walk more steadily and her pain was gone. Her vision cleared and she could speak without sounding like an extraterrestrial. 

“I… think I need to go to bathroom,” she discreetly said. “Thank you… Lar.”

She hurried back to the other end of the hallway and her memory took her straight back to where he had found her. 

What happened next was just as bad as the first time, except that the smell was so foul it made her sick again. Feeding on blood made her new organism expel all previously ingested food in one go. She thought about taking another shower after this. There was no way she’d spend the next minutes smelling like a garbage compactor.

Not only did feeding on another person’s essence was plaguing her with guilt, but this counterpart of bodily functions only made the experience feel even worse. If there was a way to extend the time between feedings, she would try her best.

After a quick wash she came with another realization that her body had changed in a way she hadn’t even considered. Not only did it lose all pubic hair, but it was leaner, almost taut. A glance at her face made her come close to revulsion, but she was fascinated by her new bone structure, the edges of her jaw and the shape of her ears. She stretched the pale skin to the sides of her cheeks to see that she was still there, beneath the scary transformation. Her neck was deformed and letting folds and lines crease the skin in impractical ways. And her now deepset eyes…

...were just as she imagined them. She knew that look. They were black and wider, but still retained their general shape. 

Footsteps tore her from the contemplation and she quickly grabbed all of her clothes and ran her wet bare feet towards the nearest stall to get dressed. When she remembered about her shoes, left near the sink, she cursed between her small fangs.

Someone came in the bathroom and stopped at the entrance, listening. No matter how quiet she tried to be, she knew they could see her thermal presence as well as she could see them.

“Are you done?”

Vaun. She let out a short breath of relief. “Yes,” she replied, and pulled the door open to step out and grab her shoes.

He gave her a critical look before turning on his heels and leaving for the hallway.

“We need to talk.”

She was glad the boots weren’t laced and she only needed to pull up the zippers on the inside of her ankles to secure them. She jogged after him, feeling very much like a new drafted recruit in the shadow army of strigoi soldiers. 

“I’m listening,” she said, surprisingly not out of breath from the physical effort.

Vaun pushed the door to his room and let her in before he closed behind him. He sat in the only chair available and she took place on the edge of the cot, hands joined on her knees.

“Why are you so worried?” he asked, evidently testing her.

Gwen looked around as if the magic answer would come out of the ether to help her say the right thing.

“I… compromised one of your members,” she began, feeling she was going the wrong way.

Vaun scratched his temple before crossing his arms. “And?”

“And… now I have to make up for it. Pay my tribute to the Ancients.”

He leaned forward, and Gwen bit her lips, bracing for the worst.

“But you weren’t chosen. They turned you because of your relation to Duz and what you know of the Partnership. None of us wanted to go against your wishes.” He leaned back and stretched out a leg over the other, his gaze moved from her and he spoke pensively. “We need to strengthen our ranks. What Duz did was a sign for all of us, telling us we’re losing each other to selfish ideals and dreams of the past. Even the Ancients admit to that.”

He paused and she sunk back into her first real conversation with Elliot, when he had told her about his life during the Civil War and spoke about his family, how life went on for them while he was in a perpetual war. She believed he had opened up to her out of kindness, but now she understood it was another plight he suffered.

“We took you in to reinforce our bond,” Vaun continued. “You and Duz no longer need to hide. We are a family, and while you may be stuck here with us, we will give everything to protect you.”

Caught completely off guard, she mouthed a reply but stopped herself, thinking she was only going to contradict his argument. She nodded, respectful.

“Thank you.”

“Okay,” he grunted, pushing himself off the chair and led her out the door. “Time to get you to your own room, you deserve it.”

It was at least five doors down from Vaun’s and the furniture was roughly the same, though it lacked an additional storage trunk but the small desk and closet were plenty for her. There was even a shelf next to the bed, and she noticed the mattress was rather new and thick. A pile of linens was folded on top of the cot. Gwen felt happy for the first time in a while, moving to a new place always had her feeling optimistic. 

“It's not exactly nuclear shelter grade quality,” she commented. 

Vaun flared his nostrils at the joke. “The lead armouring in the walls of the bunker made it impossible for the Ancients to sense what Duz was thinking. You did well by leaving that place.”

She shrugged. “It was getting crowded anyway.”

He left her to get settled in her new quarters. Gwen unzipped her sweatshirt and put her bag on the chair. She needed to do some rearrangement, move the desk and the bed, make the room look unsymmetrical to the others. 

The slightest push from her loudly dragged the furniture entirely across the concrete floor. She froze up and lifted her hands not feeling any exertion in her muscles. She made a mental note to mind herself next time she touched anything, or anyone. Her past self who had tried to work out and increase her physical strength would have been jealous of her now. 

She made her bed, pulled the sheets tightly over the mattress and placed the pillow so that she’d be facing the door. On the shelf over her head she placed her phone and cord extender to charge it. Even if there were no mobile networks, she still used her mobile device as an alarm clock, flashlight, camera, notepad, music player… What remained of her whole life was in that small pad of glass and plastic.

Tentatively putting plugging earphones in, she began with the volume set to low and launched her playlist, choosing a classical track and even the softness of string instruments felt like a loud wall of sound to her. She couldn’t begin to fathom what hard rock would do to her now.

Someone knocked on her door. Turning around, she saw the reddish thermal print of a human leaning forward to look through her doorway, Lex. She pulled out her earphones, smiling at him and he immediately backed away before she could step any closer. Gwen stopped, troubled by his fear and the deep breath he took before speaking.

“Gwen?”

“Yes,” she assured him, still uncertain why he couldn’t recognize her. “It’s me!”

His scent filled her sinus and she purred with the urge to get close to him. His pulse deafened her. The smell of his blood was all she could think about. She grabbed his hands and pulled him in, smiling and trying to show how happy she was that he was here. The vibrations in her chest increased, she inhaled sharply and tried to calm down but Lex did something that set her on edge.

He resisted.

His eyes hardened and he yanked his arms away, distancing himself by three paces.

“Please, Lex,” Gwen implored, baffled that he would deny her friendship, that she wasn’t the same to him. “I’m still here...”

He raised a gloved palm and his other hand, despite moving slowly, went to his holstered gun.

“You’re not in control,” he quietly said to her. “Gwen, remember. The second thing on a strigoi’s mind. What is it?”

They had learned it together, observing, studying the recently turned humans around Brooklyn last year. The first urge that overcame a strigoi was to feed. The second act they could not resist: to spread the disease to their loved ones, reinforcing the bonds within the nest. But neither did Duz or Vaun could infect anyone, it was known among the Hunters and she didn't understand why Lex worried. 

She wanted to tell her answer but her attention was set on the hand he held over his gun. 

What if she got it wrong, would he kill her then? 

“Lex… I know I changed,” she attempted to reassure, “but I will never hurt you.”

“Just tell me what we know,” he continued, circling his fingers around the handle. He whispered. “Don't make me do this.”

“What were you expecting of me?” she groaned. “I was supposed to be dead.”

His blue eyes brimmed with tears as he bit his lips tightly. She considered her newly acquired strength and the nagging thought of the blood coursing through his veins. 

But Lex changed his footing, taking a confident step forward to look at her. He was far better trained than she was in killing strigoi, and she stepped back slowly, widening her eyes in apprehension of what he might do. 

“I'm sorry,” he told her. “I should have stopped them or at least argued for your sake… It's me they should have turned - I chose to be here. You don't deserve any of this.”

“They didn't have to.”

“What?” He tilted his head, puzzled. 

Gwen took a shaky breath. “They don't have to turn you because you're already one of them. You… don't need to be improved. I do. I want to be here, now.”

He let out an amazed chuckle and blinked a few times. “Really?”

Suddenly feeling timid she brought a palm to her head, smoothing the hairless skin. All of the follicles had disappeared. Even her hands had become softer. 

“I hope you don't mind that I used your clippers.”

He shook his head, a sad smile stuck to his face. 

“I can't believe it's come to this.”

She frowned, considering the alternatives. “It could be worse.”

It was a human thing, adapting. Finding whatever good was available to have hope and keep living. Perhaps letting go of a human existence was the freedom she had desperately needed. 

“Gwen,” he interrupted her pondering, “Duz is here. Do you want me to go get him?”

It felt like an obvious question that she found no reply to, nodding once, nervously clutching her fingers. She looked behind him to see if he was there. Why couldn't she smell him? She bit her lower lip and waited for Lex to return. She felt her heart thumping in her chest and Duz arrived. 

He wore the full combat gear, hood down, standing with a slouch as he laid eyes on her. He took a long inhalation although they were far apart and she barely identified his scent. His face was blank, the lids covering the top of his black eyes. He swung the door closed, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. 

“I caused this,” he spoke, his voice deep and sore. “I have no excuse for my actions, even though you told me, again and again that it was wrong... They did this to punish  _ me _ .”

“No,” she protested before her throat would tighten with sorrow. “We can be together now. We're the same!”

He didn't face her. He didn't even come near her. 

“They took your life, your future, and whatever children you would have had. I never wanted that to happen to you.”

She crossed the room in two paces and grabbed his wrist, pulling him around to look at her. 

“Then why did you even-” she stopped, realizing he was just as confused as she was. She calmed her voice and released him. “Did you love me because you knew you couldn't have me?”

She saw moisture filling his eyes as he confronted her angered gaze. Her head started aching and her heart felt like it tore open. Fists closed tightly she banged on his chest and pushed him with rage, backing him against the wall. He offered no resistance, not even a word in his defense. 

“You wanted to watch me die?” she hissed, feeling her stinger growling madly. “Did you enjoy seeing me lying there while your master  _ drank _ me?”

She was being unfair, she remembered despite the haze of faint consciousness then the echo of his voice, screaming, roaring furiously as he was being held back. Tears wet her face as she saw the tension in his neck, the pale red folds moving as he breathed laboriously. 

“When was the last time you fed?” she softly asked. 

His stinger purred in response, but Duz moved away from the wall and stood near her bed, knuckles flexing in his gloves. 

“You can't let yourself die,” she scolded. “Talk to me!”

His shoulders heaved. A moment passed, and it seemed like she could hear voices from outside the door. His voice turned back to normal when he spoke to her. 

“Who will it be?”

She lowered her brow. “Who will be what?”

His head turned to his side but he didn't meet her gaze. 

“You need to choose… Who will be training you to become a Sun Hunter?”

 

She didn't understand if the idea came from him, if it was customary for new recruits to be given the choice of an instructor, but she asked for an explanation. Duz had said nothing, he simply brought her to a place she hadn't visited yet: a gigantic open hall through three levels, columns, faint lights and balconies. They walked towards the center of the floor, joining four men who stood in a circle, they turned to watch her arrival. 

She spotted Lex, who was as tall as Vaun, Lar was the shortest of them and the fourth strigoi… 

… was not exactly like the strigoi she had ever seen. 

He stood tallest, hands clasped in his back, he was slender though he wore a thick coat instead of the usual tactical combat outfit. A bone was attached to a harness in his back. 

“Gwen Xuan,” Vaun introduced, holding his belt, “we've been waiting for you.”

He gave Lex an inquisitive glance but her friend ignored him. He motioned to the stranger beside him. 

“This is Quinlan,” said Lex. “One of the first Sun Hunters. He's the one who defeated the Master.”

“Oh?”

She knew of the day the one responsible for the plague had been destroyed, but the ensuing chaos had kept everyone concerned with basic survival from nuclear radiation. She found it hard to withstand his white eyes when he studied her. She focused on the scars all over his face, his pointy ears, the swirls on the front of his neck. 

He took a short breath before stepping forward. Gwen was caught aback by his tone and accent. 

“Alexej has told me about you. We worked together over the past year, and I'm surprised he hasn't told you about me.”

He looked back at Lex, who shifted his posture and raised his chin, earnestly looking back at the one called Quinlan. 

“He is a friend of my family,” he spoke quickly at Gwen, “he trained some of my ancestors in the Czech Republic, they were Sun Hunters, like I am.”

Taking in the revelation, she blankly faced Vaun. Crossing her arms she faced Duz. He raised a hairless eyebrow at her. 

“I can't make a decision when I'm realizing everyone's been hiding things from me.”

“What's wrong?” Lar intervened. “Would you rather have us lie to you?”

She didn't return his provocation with any feedback and made an effort to keep her nerves under control. It felt like a trial and she had the worst lawyer by her side. 

She was just about to speak when she heard a faint whisper, like she was hearing the wind carrying a distant conversation over to her ears. Her eyes moved to the one called Quinlan and she understood that a lot of good came out of having him work with them. She just didn't understand why she never heard about him until now. 

He looked back at her with a kind smile. “You are hearing the thoughts of the Ancients. They can speak to you, if you know how to listen.”

There was something appealing in his mannerisms. A leader’s charisma, the right measure of volume and tone, the straight stance, the natural flow of his words. The way he set his strange eyes on her. Gwen blinked several times and chewed her molars. 

“Okay, Quentin. I'll train with you.”

He narrowed his eyelids. “Quinlan.”

“It's settled then,” Vaun announced, propping his fists to his hips. “While you prepare, we'll be working in the operations room. If you need anything, ask Lar. He's holding down the fort when I'm absent.”

She turned to see Duz leaving with them. She caught his sleeve just before he got out of reach. Her chest tightened with grief as she realized he hadn't said a thing. 

“Elliot…”

His hand held hers, and his expression while still apologetic, had grown softer and confident. 

“We'll talk later.”

Her forehead and cheeks warmed and she wanted it all to be over. Watching him leave with the others, she blamed herself for pushing away the ones who cared the most, who had done everything to protect her. Now that she was in a good place, in the most relative of terms, she only showed disgrace and insolence. 

Once again, she was alone. 

Boots hit the floor heavily as Quinlan walked towards her. He was not stealthy, and that added to her suspicion that he wasn't one to bow to authority. He towered over her, and she smelled a slight undertone of male musk mixed with a foreign strigoi scent. She brushed the back of her hand to dry her eyes, locking her trembling lips as he looked down at her. 

“It is a truly amazing thing,” he wondered aloud, “to turn from human to strigoi, in one smooth transition. No loss of sentience, no death of the soul. Only… pain. The gift of the Ancients.”

She sniffled, sighing bitterly. “Is that why they sleep so much?”

When he smirked she caught a glimpse of his gray teeth, marked by time, just like the pattern of scars on his head. 

“When Alexej asked me if I could oversee your training I was skeptical. He did not tell me you had already been accepted.”

“It was an accident.”

He studied her for a moment. “Nevertheless. I will uphold my word and see that you can fend for yourself.” 

Gwen looked up at him and it dawned on her that she had been given a choice much greater than just picking a fighting instructor. It was an opportunity. 

She was given the freedom to choose her destiny. 


	10. Grace

Chapter 10: Grace

 

She held the old sword with both hands, knuckles tight around the hilt of the glaive as she parried, feet spaced in defensive position. Her guard was high to protect herself from a tall opponent who dispatched long and slow strikes at her. The loud clashing of steel echoed throughout the room. 

He stood, leaning on the railing of a far balcony at the end of the training hall. Having taken care of his basic needs, feeding, washing, peace kept his mind grounded. White fingers meshed as he watched and listened in quiet thought. She looked so much like one of them now, sickly pale, monstrous in a way, her human traits and what made her still look like her were subtle nuances in her bone structure. Her voice. She was alive and breathing, that should have appeased him from the first minute he saw her.

Quinlan had shed his heavy coat and worked in his undershirt and  leather vest, instructing the basics of fencing with Gwen. He lowered his bone-pummeled sword. He spoke to her very gently. 

“Ease your back, this is not fighting. It's a dance.”

Gwen experimentally spun her weapon with a flick of her wrist before holding it with two hands again. This wasn't the first time she handled a long blade. 

“If it's a dance then where's the music?” she shot back at her instructor. 

“The sound of your heartbeat should suffice.” The Born kept his guard low. “Your turn.”

“I've been fooled before,” Gwen said, attempting an unsure strike at his midsection before quickly parrying his counterattack. 

An amused expression stretched Quinlan’s mouth. “Is that enough to agitate you, Gwen?”

She jumped backwards a few steps to avoid his slashing stroke, aimed for her knees. She then circled him, holding her sword slightly concealed. Squinting, Duz wondered if she would finally look at him, or give him some sort of sign. 

“I'd rather be underestimated, it works in my favor.” 

She launched her next attack, a wide swing at Quinlan's chest which she ended too soon, spinning on herself as Quinlan parried and turned just in time to dodge the wing clip she had prepared. But he was fast enough to reply with an attack over her head. Gwen moved at the last instant, rolling and getting on her feet in time to block the powerful strikes. Duz clenched the railing as he heard her voice groaning in complaint. 

She was tiring. Quinlan wasn't using his full force but he was testing her limits. 

Her cry of pain echoed in the hall when Quinlan’s ancient blade slashed at her shoulder, tearing a hole in the black fabric of her clothes. She staggered but stayed upright, watching white blood leaking from the wound. 

He paused with a look of concern in his pale eyes. 

“Damn,” she hissed. “It hurts... really bad.”

“My blade is laced with silver,” Quinlan explained plainly. “Will you be alright?”

Duz was already on the floor before Quinlan walked to her, he jogged to inspect the damage and she finally noticed he was there. 

“Duz… Good to see you.”

“You'll be alright,” he said as he looked closer at her injury. So it was Duz now, no more Elliot. “I can take care of this.”

Quinlan tilted his head and smiled, watching them. 

“Yes,” he commented, “training can wait. Gwen has accomplished enough for one day.”

Duz faced the Born and nodded his respects to him. He wasn't one of the Ancients children, Duz couldn't feel his emotions or sense his thoughts like he could Vaun or Lar. 

“She's lucky to have you.”

Blinking slowly, Quinlan lingered on him before glancing at her. 

“She doesn't need me,  _ Elliot _ .”

He faced the Born was calm defiance. It made no difference what they called him, his full name was no secret and held little importance in his regard. 

Gwen sighed, sardonic. “And I'm still here, minding my own business.” She handed her sword back to Quinlan. “How long will you be staying with us?”

“For as long as I'm needed. I caught word that other Sun Hunters were to be recruited, perhaps I will be training more of you in the future.”

He had taught him close combat tactics when he first arrived in the nest, Duz recalled their sparring lessons. The fast shooting and reloading techniques. Thanks to his ties with Europe, Quinlan was proficient with all kinds of weapons, from firearms to hand-to-hand fighting and even the use of chemicals, to some extent. Quinlan was a warrior of over two thousand years. Everyone who met him and lived should consider themselves lucky. 

Gwen allowed him to lead her away from the training grounds, he wanted to treat her wound before it would turn into a large scar. 

“I guess I could just staple myself and walk it off,” she jokingly said as they arrived at the medicine room. “It's the second time this week that someone patches me up.”

She sat on the reclining chair and looked at her hands. Her right palm and no trace left of the firearm injury she got herself three days ago. Duz helped her out of her sweatshirt and cut off the sleeve of her top with his tactical knife. 

“I could have just taken it off,” she remarked. 

He pulled up a chair close to her and sat with the tray of medical instruments. 

“It was ruined anyway.”

She laid back against the seat, lying halfway down, allowing him access to her shoulder. Her black eyes followed his movements as he put on surgical gloves, and he felt his stinger purring in unison with her. 

“I'm serious,” she said, “find a stapler. I'm done with pain for today.”

Cleaning up the blood around the cut, he had trouble focusing on her face. 

“We take care of our own for centuries,” he explained. “And staples don't work, our skin regenerates too fast and they don't hold, or they become absorbed and we don't want that.”

She dropped her bald head on the cushion and her hand wandered over his chest, running her fingers on his pectorals. Duz held his breath, feeling the sudden warmth come over him. 

“You're just dying to poke me with a needle.”

He let out a chuckling breath, inserting thread in the needle eye. “It'd be better if you didn't distract me while I'm about to reattach your arm.”

She laughed and brought her knees up, resting her boots on the chair. Both her hands were on her stomach now, letting him to do his work. He proceeded quickly, not interrupting himself to talk as Lex did. With all the respect he had for him, Lex was too zealous with his first aid skills. Gwen endured the procedure, wincing now and then but calming herself audibly with soft rattles within her breast. 

“Were you watching me the entire time?” 

He raised his attention to her and searched his thoughts. “Only for the last few minutes. I was impressed.”

“All of those fantasy movies paid off, then.” She looked at him under heavy lids. “Why is Quinlan different?”

He finished up with the last stitch and picked up a roll of bandaging. 

“He wasn't turned into a strigoi, his mother was.”

“Damn…” she sat up and held the gauze in place while he circled her arm. “That's a harsh childhood.”

Duz secured the bandage with tape and took off the latex gloves. Her curiosity encouraged him to talk. 

“He never speaks of it. All I know is that he was an army general in the Roman Empire, and he was hunting the Master at the same time.”

Mouth agape, she ran a hand over her bare arm as she processed the information. 

“I hope I wasn't disrespectful to him.”

“You weren't supposed to know, and if this should teach you anything,” he nodded to her shoulder, “is that you must be careful. Quinlan is known to make great sacrifices to get what he wants.”

Her brow lowered over her black eyes, clutching her forearm. Duz bit his upper lip and attempted to soothe her, brushing a knuckle over the flawless alabaster of her hand. 

Her breathing halted and deepened as she looked down, frowning. Throat tightening, he put away his advances and began cleaning up the medical tray, stowing the instruments back into their cabinets. Gwen put on her sweatshirt and zipped up, standing and going towards the door. She waited for him to finish and finally looked in her direction to leave. 

When he closed the door behind him she stood by, and clung to his elbow as they walked towards the private quarters. Yonn passed by, staring boldly at them and stopping as they continued down the hallway. The fellow Sun Hunter was a quiet strigoi, but Duz knew better than to underestimate him. 

Gwen did not relent her hold of him. She almost pulled him into her room, closing the door and turning the bolt. He was about to mouth his concerns when she touched his chest and the back of his neck, lifting herself on her toes to kiss him. 

He had expected her to be cold, but she wasn't. Her lips were soft and warm and the presumed thirst for blood that accompanied the act was no longer there. He craved more than primal sustenance and he tasted not blood, but only her. His stinger purred loudly through his ribcage, echoed by her own as she gave herself into his embrace. 

She parted from him to pull her top over her head, discarding both garments into the chair and she resumed nibbling at his lips, her face lit with joy as she lifted his shirt up. Duz groaned approvingly and edged them both towards her bed. She kicked off her boots and worked on removing her trousers as he mirrored her in a hurry. It made no sense, they had all the time in the world now. 

Lying in bed with nothing that came between them, Gwen explored his corrupt form, brushing each muscle with her delicate fingers. He wasn't left wanting as he contemplated the soft mounds of her breasts and shape of her stomach, kneeling between her parted thighs and burning with desire. He basked in her sweet scent, nuzzling her neck and she let out a sigh, wrapping her legs around his hips. 

She moved under him with moans of pleasure, running her finger tips along his spine, sending chills through him. Every inch of her skin reacted to his lips, his tongue, and his hands as he stroked her young body, burning feverishly against him. She kissed him in return, her eyes wide with attraction when he positioned himself flush against her. He felt everything and he knew by the sight of her shock that she was almost at her tipping point. Their lack of genitalia did leave their erogenous zones with sensitive nerve endings, and he smiled with ravenous satisfaction as he realized she wasn't aware of this before now. 

Her weak moaning turned to cries of lust, he breathed heavily over her, grunting with effort as he ached to feel her - all of her - with his body and mind. Duz lifted her in his arms to sit up on his knees, she clung to him tightly, whimpering as she shook within his grasp. 

He calmed his heart, still exhaling heavily and kissed her parted lips, touching her scalp and she rested her forehead against his shoulder. Her hands slid down to his lower back, cupping and giving his buttocks a squeeze and they both chuckled. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered and held his gaze, smiling. “That's why you hide behind all that armor. If people could see you, you would get nothing done.”

He smirked back and felt her running her hand down his chest, abdominals and finally his groin. She looked up and suggestively bit her lower lip. Duz narrowed his eyes at her.

“I didn't think you'd be interested.”

He was honest about his presumption and had assumed Gwen was one of those physically detached individuals who held mental and emotional intimacy above all other relations. She was hesitant and watching her experimentally reach down her own private part made him groan with animalistic ideas. 

“I never thought of myself this way,” she murmured, shivering with mixed feelings as she avoided his gaze, looking sideways. “I was always alone.”

“What do you mean?”

His heart picked up a pace. His hands held her shoulders, cautious not to touch her fresh wound, and he caressed her arms, tenderly trying to comfort her. 

He tried to reassure himself that he was not to blame for this, too.

“I'm…”

Gwen looked down between them and her voice died in her throat, tensing as she sat back. Duz held her hands and felt a burning sensation behind his eyes. She brought up her knees and circled her arms around them. Her face disappeared as she sat in fetal position, only animated by a silent hick up. 

“Stay with me,” he asked her quietly, coming to lay beside her, inviting her in his arms. He pulled the sheets over their naked bodies and Gwen began to sob into his side. “I'm here now.”

Warm tears rolled down his face and he took in a ragged breath, holding her with the strength he knew she needed at that moment. 

It had all gone down so fast. From the moment he met her, to their feelings developing, then her turning and now everything was coming to the surface. 

She had a right to mourn her past life as a human, even if it was a life of solitude. It was an existence full of hope and potential, she surely had dreams of starting a family, to live somewhere remote and to grow old peacefully with her loved ones. None of it was real, but he knew the pain of losing hope. 

He stifled his own agonizing pain when he couldn't identify what ate at him. Treason, murder, or something gruesome that broke the trust he felt in his core. 

Gwen had settled in his arm and appeared to sleep. Her white breasts pressed against his ribs and her legs tangled with his. But Duz lied awake, boiling with anger as he protectively held her hand over his heart. 

His Maker knew. He had dug into his memories, felt everything and learned everything from his sentience and subconscious. He had planned for this. 

When Duz had returned with Gwen on that fateful night, he believed he was simply following orders. He didn't think about the possible outcomes. He never suspected what could be the cause of his master's resentment, only that his feelings for her were unwelcome. That night, had he known, he would have shot a bullet right between the Ancient’s eyes. 

But he didn't. 

That night, his master had fed on virgin blood. 

 

Something moved next to his left ear, making him twitch in his sleep. He tried to stay under but it started again, like a suction applied to his earlobe and out of reflex he waved at the thing going at him in this vulnerable state. His palm met a face and she giggled at him, fully awake and looking over him. 

Duz sat up and consulted the phone left charging on the shelf nearby: three in the afternoon. Gwen stretched her legs and arms, still lying next to him and gleefully smiled. 

“Didn't want to wake you.”

He scratched at his ear and let out a dull sigh. He remembered the previous night, their love-making, and the tears. 

“Sorry about yesterday,” he told her politely, “I should have shut my mouth and just let you be.”

She batted her eyelids and leaned backwards, accidentally uncovering one of her nipples. She adjusted the thin blanket and her eyes wandered over him. 

“I'm glad it's done,” she confessed. “I didn't know how to say it, didn't even think it mattered. Apparently, it does.”

Her voice was still shaking slightly. 

“I kept waiting for the right person, the right moment.”

And it never happened. Duz looked away and braced himself, ready to get out of bed. 

“I'm sorry, Gwen.”

She touched his hand crumpling the sheets. 

“It was you,” she confidently said. “So what if I never let anyone have sex with me? It was my decision. And if I couldn't find anyone who was good to me then it would be fine… I would be okay.”

And for how much longer? 

Duz kept silent but the pressure in his head and his aching heart made his eyes water. He looked at her hand, meshed their fingers together and held it tightly. 

“You're crying,” she remarked, pain twisting her face. “Don't feel sorry for me. Please…”

“It's not that,” he earnestly replied, rubbing a palm over his face. “The issue is with the Ancients, and I feel I've been betrayed by my own kind. They used me, and they got to you. Some Ancients believe that virgin blood is the most potent of all.”

Her expression washed with disgust. He continued. 

“The Seventh preyed on young women who were untouched, decimating entire countries for that. When one of them turned out pregnant he hunted her down. Incidentally it was Quinlan's mother and she gave birth to a dhampir, the half-strigoi.”

She tiredly sighed and leaned beside him, circling her arms around his chest. Her cheek felt warm against his bare skin. It alleviated his heart and he wanted nothing more but to spend eternity by her side. 

“Nothing bad happened to me, Elliot. I think they saved me a lot of grief. Your Ancient… He took away a burden from my back. I think I really didn't like being human.”

“You say this now but after a hundred years,” he replied, cynical, “you'll start looking back.”

“We can't change the past,” she told him softly, sitting up and leaving the bed. “But we're together and we're alive, so to speak… we can make the best of it.”

His thoughts were utterly disrupted by the sight of her, bending over to pick up her clothes on the floor. Looking away was more appropriate, but his fascination had the better of him. 

It almost didn't look like she was strigoi, if one did not account for the lack of hair, skin color and facial features. Any man would not hesitate to attempt to seduce her if he was so disposed to it. She was beautiful, inside and out, intelligent and with a pure heart, completely devoid of malice. With or without his doing, Duz believed she had opened up to him and allowed him into her life. 

It had started small, and she had naturally reciprocated his feelings for her. What she found in him was still a question that left him wondering. She wore her oversized sweatshirt before putting on her knee-length socks, a truly blessed vision as he let his eyes linger on her nude thighs. He smiled, content and happy for the first time in centuries. 

His Master had claimed her blood, her life… but she was not defeated. 

Beyond humanity and beyond death, she was his. 

 

The cold air froze his breath in the silence of the abandoned golf course in Marine Park. Far from the torn up buildings and empty houses it almost seemed like there hadn't been a nuclear war, and that it was only an overcast winter day in Brooklyn. Birds were flying in from the sea and he spotted small wildlife nearby, a fox, and a raccoon earlier near the dumpsters. 

Duz stood watch while Gwen trained with Quinlan, having chosen the outdoors as a change of scenery. She swung her sword with effort, her movements looked affected by the cold. They had fitted her with a heavy combat vest to get her used to the combat gear. The next projectile that Quinlan tossed at her crashed into her hood and she yelped at the freezing snow got into her clothes, she jumped around trying to get the icy droplets out. Duz smiled as he saw Quinlan gathering more snow at his feet, pressing his gloved hands to form a ball. 

Grinning mischievously the Born threw his snowball with all of his force right into her knees and she nearly lost balance. She raised her sword and charged him while he was preparing more ammunition. Her small feet sunk into the thick snow and she roared with desperation, trying to instill fear in her opponent. She was about to come down on him but he stepped away, leaning backwards and smashed his snowball into Gwen’s head, effectively making her meet the snowy ground face first. 

When she was back on her feet, Quinlan pulled out his gladiator’s glaive, spun it around in a pretty flourish and stood to face her counterattack. Gwen was still smiling maniacally, apparently very amused that she was failing every time. Their swords clashed loudly in the deserted park. They were strigoi. None would pay attention to their scent. They were safe. 

Duz distracted himself from their play and watched a group of trucks rolling down Brooklyn Park towards the east. They were black Partnership trucks and they were carrying people. It reminded him that they needed to act on the mission as soon as possible. The human resistance was gathering numbers and enough supplies to survive months in the shelter. That was-

Ice smacked the back of his head, sending shards of cold into his neck as snow filled his hood. An immature giggle echoed in the plain. Gwen, laughing, clapped her gloved hands, cheering at herself and Quinlan smirked at her silliness. His white gaze was also following the convoy and eventually Gwen took a more serious expression. 

“Those are the trucks headed for draining.”

Duz blew the warm breath from his nostrils and clutched at his belt. He sniffed with sarcastic restraint. “If we don't take care of this, there won't be much of anyone left for our own drinking.”

Quinlan sheathed his weapon and pulled up the hood over his head, his face was slightly flushed from the cold. His part of human physiology couldn't stand so long in this weather. Also, he was from a warm country unlike Duz who had spent his whole life on the Northern East Coast. 

“And if we assume that each city has a draining facility, the first one will be the easiest to deal with.”

Duz held his arms over his flak vest, catching sight of Gwen using her smartphone. She was aiming at him, he tried not to look phased.

“Branching out across the country would take time, we couldn’t advance on the Partnership on that kind of scale.”

Quinlan dug his hands in his pockets and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and turned to look at Gwen who grinned, exposing her white fangs. She put away her device before he could say anything. Duz waited.

“There’s a reason why the Ancients kept our numbers limited. If there had been a need for more Sun Hunters they would have taken their dispositions long ago. But then again…” He paused, letting his thoughts trail off as he gave Gwen an endeared smile. “I’ve never known them to adapt quickly to new circumstances. Something must have woken them.”

Keeping his stinger quiet with a deep breath, compressing his ribcage, Duz held his tongue about Gwen. No one needed to know the things he had come to understand and why she was taken. A raven landed on top of a bench far in his field of vision, fighting another crow for a piece of garbage.

“We lived in hiding because of the truce,” he told Quinlan. “It’s been so long, we got used to being mere shadows, complacent within our own sense of security.”

“If you feel that way then I have hope yet for the Ancients,” Quinlan reflected. 

“Have you spoken to them?” Duz asked with genuine concern.

“I have spoken  _ at  _ them,” he dulfully replied, and they began walking away from the golf course. “With all due respect, they’re consistently pig headed. ”

Duz chuckled. He remembered the times they had omitted to tell important details about killing the Master, costing them all great grievances. Quinlan wasn’t known to hold grudges but his frightening impulse reactions often put him at odds with his peers.

The ice crunched under their boots as they walked down the snow-covered dirt road in the park, and Gwen’s more rapid pace caught up to them, using her sword as a walking stick. They presented an ominous sight, all three black-clad strigoi, armed with various weapons and casually strolling the coast of Brooklyn. 

“In two thousand years,” Gwen said, “you probably never saw the world in a similar state, have you?”

“Not everywhere at the same time,” politely replied Quinlan, he looked over to her as she was browsing her phone’s pictures. “That  _ thing _ is going to make you blind.”

Duz contained his amusement as he watched her roll her eyes, stowing her phone back in her pocket. 

“Alright,” she pouted. “But regenerative cells work in the optic nerves too, and the retina.”

“But won't save you from being run over by a vehicle, young lady. I'm over two thousand years old, and I've seen stranger things.”

An almost permanent smirk danced over Quinlan's face. Duz let out a chuckle. 

“Okay, Grandpa. You don't like technology.”

He dared not show the phone he kept in his front pouch. Lex used his all the time, as well. Perhaps the old man was already annoyed with this introduction of technological distractions. 

“Pardon my concerns for your safety and caring about the direction this brotherhood is taking,” Quinlan said, not without a pompous tone. “I know times are changing and we must adapt, but not at the expense of integrity and work.”

“Says the one who owns a private airline, a fleet of cars, weapon industries… Should I go on?”

Gwen raised her brow and bit her lips with shock and Duz just made a smug smile. 

“Quinlan is a business tycoon in his own right. But sure, he  _ never _ uses a phone, he just stares down at people to make them do his bidding.”

“Just imagine the horror,” Quinlan added with humor in his voice, giving Gwen a nudge of the elbow, “if I had to appear in person at every meeting and business venture.”

Duz nodded his chin at him. 

“Come on. Pull it out.”

Quinlan heavily sighed and slid a hand inside his coat to produce a phone-tablet in a black case. It had a battery charge extender. 

Gwen shrugged. “It doesn't count if it's for work, right?” She laughed at her own joke. “At the airport I probably met people who work for you, if you're some kind of fat cat, head of industry.”

“I take great care in covering my tracks,” he said, eager to hide his own portable device. “Especially if someone is going to call me a fat cat.”

Having not been this amused in years, Duz used his gloved hands to wipe his eyes. 

“Oh, I see your boyfriend is very entertained by this,” snarled Quinlan. He turned to Duz with a menacing gaze. “We’ll see who's having a laugh when I release an army of actual cats into the nest.”

Gwen snorted almost to a choke. Duz raised his voice in feigned outrage. 

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Quinlan stopped them both, hands spread at his sides, then putting an index finger to his lips to have silence. Duz grabbed his pistol and heard the distinctive sound of hearts beating, approaching from the south. It smelled human… and canine. 

“Just someone walking their dog,” he said, and holstering his gun. 

It was one individual walking in their direction, about three hundred meters from them. A female. 

“Well, we are in a park, after all.” Gwen squinted and huffed. “Yeah, that's Brenda.”

Duz grimaced at the mention of the name, identifying the dark-haired woman, holding a big brown dog on a leash. 

“Do we know this person?” asked Quinlan. 

They both replied simultaneously, Duz said  _ no _ while Gwen said  _ yes _ . But something caught their attention and it was the faint sound of clicks and rattles in the distance. The dog stopped walking and growled towards the east. Soon, ravenous strigoi were running from the streets and going for the pulsing blood they smelled. Duz hissed and began advancing, pulling his hood over his head. 

“Alright, we're up.”

Quinlan stayed behind with Gwen, making sure she was paying attention. 

“My dear Gwen Xuan,” he started, keeping an eye on Duz, “your training begins now.”

Brenda was holding up her silver gun at the first arriving attackers and her dog was barking madly both at the immediate threat and also at Duz. He held up his pistol and gestured for her to move away. She froze into place, eyes wide with confusion. Duz groaned at her. 

“Run, Brenda!”

The first strigoi were upon them and Duz fired his shots, popping their skulls, one after the other. Three, four hungry creatures fell into the snow but more were coming. Brenda finally took the hint and pulled her dog to relative safety, taking cover behind a park bench. 

_ Idiot _ . He took point and kept shooting at the incoming strigoi, splashing white and worms all over the sidewalks. Quinlan joined him, Uzi's in hand and eliminated a series of three that came in a group. 

“Leave some for my girlfriend,” he humorously shouted at him. 

But Gwen was heading towards Brenda and her panicked dog. They both raised their defenses upon her arrival and she raised up her gloved hands. 

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Gwen said. “But you need to get out of here.”

Some strigoi were now coming from unpredictable places, behind bushes, jumping over parked cars, and they continued staggering even with bullets shots at their limbs. Gwen held her sword and she faced one just in time, swung at the neck and the head flew away. Another arrived and she came up to it, stabbed its heart before stepping back, and a bullet blew its brains out. She turned around quickly and shouted at him. 

“Behind you!”

Duz heeded her warning and fired point-blank at a short pale-faced mugger. He planted his dagger into the neck of another that was trying to get his stinger on to Quinlan, already busy emptying his clip into a wave of recently turned monsters. He stabbed and shot another strigoi, kicked the carcass down and took advantage of a respite to make his way towards their human ally. 

If she showed courage early, she was now terrified. Three strigoi had come to her defense, one of which still had fuming machine guns in both hands. 

“You… followed me here?” she accused, looking far from grateful. 

Her dog kept growling and Duz worked on his manners not to growl back. 

“Of all the places you can choose to have your pet do its business,” he spoke back, “you come here? It's infested with strigoi.”

Quinlan arrived, stepping on shells and cracked ice. He raised a white brow at the woman. 

She smirked with despise. “I can see that,” she then looked at Gwen. “You're a girl, right? Or, used to be one?”

Gwen looked up at the cloudy sky. 

“You gave me stitches.”

“Oh…  _ Oh _ , so it's you! I'm sorry… Gwen, was it?”

Duz felt his face twitch with impatience. “It still is. Now, will you go back to the shelter or do we have to move you?”

“Not yet,” Brenda sighed, looking over her shoulder. “My kids, I was going to fetch them before heading back to my place. Their school is two blocks from here.”

“You do this everyday?” Gwen asked, bewildered. 

“I'm not an idiot,” Brenda protested. “I know how to avoid them, but when you arrived I had to take a detour and here we are.”

Duz suspiciously eyed Gwen, then Quinlan who seemed intrigued as well. He took a step forward and Brenda backed away, but her dog whined a little bit. At least it had stopped barking. Quinlan sized up the woman, and Duz noticed her smell was particularly enticing. 

“You're a collaborator,” Quinlan calmly observed, clear eyes looming over her. “You knew you'd be safe within a certain range of the Partnership buildings, the school, for instance. But today you ventured farther than usual, your dog took its time to mark the place since it was the first time he visited here in a while… And you got off track. You lost control and we had to come and save you.”

The serenity in his voice and demeanour made his claims undeniable. Agitated, Brenda shifted in her boots and her eyes darted from side to side.

“I'm no traitor to my species,” she defensively said. “I need to protect my children, and they need everything they can get even if it comes from the system… If I fail to provide for them, the Partnership takes them away. Right now it's not ideal, but we get by.”

“Hm, yes,” Quinlan acquiesced, “an old friend of mine said something similar. People do many things in order to  _ get by _ .”

Duz stepped back from the conversation and opened his front pouch to make a call. Gwen took notice of him, observing him intently. He stayed in her field of vision so that she knew he wasn't hiding from her. 

The tone rang three times before he heard the reverberated voice of Lex, according to the sound he must have been in a wide open hall, perhaps close to the Ancients. 

“ _ What is it? _ ”

“Trouble.” He gave a look over his shoulder and took another few steps away from Brenda, lowering his voice. “We found Brenda walking her dog at Marine Park with no valid explanation. She drew a whole colony of strigoi that we had to clear out. It's a mess out here.”

“ _ Shit… Okay well, get her back to base _ .”

“She needs to pick up her children from school otherwise they're going into the system. Look… we did what we had to do but you can get under the radar if you give her a ride. Plainclothes, take your car and bring the kids to the shelter.”

He heard muffled sounds and his breathing into the microphone. 

“ _ You said she has a dog? _ ”

“And not a small one.”

Gwen was kneeling, making tentatives to pet the dog but it lowered its head in suspicion. Brenda was telling something in length to Quinlan as he cautiously scrutinized her. 

“ _ I'll be there in ten minutes.” _

Duz pocketed the phone and walked back to the small gathering. 

“... The issue is communication with other cells in neighbour states,” said Brenda, she eyed Duz and interrupted herself. “How did you get your phones to work?”

“You'll have to ask the engineer yourself. He's picking you up with the kids in ten minutes and taking you back to the shelter.”

She scornfully raised her chin and clutched the leash in her hands. 

“Doesn't sound like I have a choice.”

Looking sideways, taking a breath of the fresh night air, Duz shifted his footing. 

“No.”

Shutting down questions and defiance was something that he'd gotten a taste for, when the time demanded it. Humans were far too critical of forces acting on their behalf, even to their benefit. Brenda looked a lot like less proud now, sitting with her animal on the bench, she took her attention to Gwen and Duz was reminded of all the changes that had occurred after three days. 

“I feel stupid for asking,” she hesitated, “but how is Lex taking it?”

“Beg your pardon?”

Gwen planted her feet on the ground, narrowing her eyes at the woman. 

“When you turned… are you and Lex still…?”

She shrugged to finish her sentence and Gwen chuckled and shook her head. 

“You could have just asked, Brenda. I was never with Lex. We work together, we're friends.”

Duz wanted no part in this discussion and he caught Quinlan's equally bored gaze. 

Gwen went and sat down on the bench next to the woman and the dog hesitantly but quickly sat against Gwen. Her body warmth was much higher than that of Brenda's, even higher than a dog's temperature. She finally got to pet him. 

They spoke together softly and Quinlan smiled, Duz felt things were easing up between them and they had time to spare before Lex arrived. 

Not without surprise, Duz was pulled aside by Quinlan who showed him his phone's display, opening the contacts application and creating a new entry. Duz accepted to enter his number into the Born’s directory, unable to shake the thought of getting into something bigger than just exchanging contact information. Quinlan put the phone back in his coat and said nothing. His face was unreadable. 

“I could have left when I had the chance,” Brenda was telling, eyes wet. “I had the train ticket but I gave it to my upstairs neighbours, they had kids too. Being sentimental I thought we could ride this out and maybe rebuild what we had left. I lived my whole life here, in Brooklyn. My kids deserve a stable life… After losing their father they couldn't be torn from their friends and family.”

“I stayed for my parents,” Gwen said approvingly. “I never had children but I helped some, after they lost their mother. When the bomb went off… It was too late to do anything and I was completely lost. I had to work, and I had no choice. The Partnership took me in, gave me a place to live in, the bare minimum.” 

She paused, looking straight at her. 

“Not picking sides is honorable but in his war everyone has to make sacrifices. I thought I had lost everything but then, I saw that the worst could still happen if I continued to think only for myself. My safety with the Partnership was compromised. I was trapped.”

Brenda sniffled, emotionally forcing her voice steady. 

“But you gave your own life?”

“I was given a choice,” Gwen tried to say with a smile. Duz compressed his chest with his crossed arms and couldn't look away. “I didn't want to run for the rest of my life so I chose to stay.”

The sound of a car engine stole his attention and Duz recognized the black Hyundai closing in. They all stood and came near the car that Lex parked against the sidewalk. He came out dressed in black civilian clothing, with the Partnership armband and code for identification. 

He worriedly eyed them but said nothing, opened the passenger door and the dog instantly jumped in. Brenda stopped before she entered the car and turned around. She faced Gwen and thanked her before hugging her. 

Shocked, Gwen placed her gloved hands on her back. Brenda breathed in with relief. 

“Ah… God, you're so warm.”

“Alright, lady, time to go.”

Duz only then realized he had put his palm over his gun. Gwen stepped back on the sidewalk and stood by his side, a concern frown over her eyes even though she was smiling. 

They parted with the human and Lex gave a nod to them before starting the car down the park avenue. They watched the vehicle disappear at the curb and Quinlan sighed. 

“If the Ancients valued you for something, I think we know, now.”

“I'm the good collaboration,” she told them with a smirk. 


	11. Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex is confronted with harsh realities of life - and death - but his position and impact upon others depend on the choices he made in the past, and his future is determined by his commitment to those choices. 
> 
> Heavy chapter featuring Vaun, Quinlan, Lar and a surprise canon character.

Chapter 11: Commitment

 

The dog’s wide face filled the rearview mirror, panting rapidly with excitement as Lex put on his seatbelt. The black-haired woman next to him smiled at Gwen, standing on the sidewalk. He veered onto the lane, driving slowly as the dog looked out the passenger windows, leaving drool marks on the doors.

“So did you make new friends?” he asked her with a friendly wink.

Brenda’s confused look soon brightened with amusement. She turned to check on her dog, sitting obedient on the backseat.

“Thanks for letting us ride in your car.” She touched the fabric of the cushion under her and her blue eyes wandered along the dashboard. “It’s yours, I bet.”

Lex switched on the air conditioning to cycle the dog smell. He returned her gaze and tried not to take her bait.

“It is mine. And you’re welcome.”

She pointed towards the left. “Take a left over there.”

The streets were deserted. No traffic, no use for turn signals, no pedestrians. People knew when to make themselves scarce for fear of rousing strigoi attention.

Partnership patrol cars still roamed the city and he made a point to take the backstreets and alleys to wait while Brenda would fetch her children from school. 

“You can’t be seen with me,” he said, turning off the engine. “If the school staff or guards ask you questions…”

“You’re a friend of the family,” she finished for him.

“No,” he corrected her, earnestly creasing his brow. “My ID tag can only take me through a checkpoint. They could trace my name back to Gwen, who disappeared from her post.”

She blinked and sighed before acquiescing his instructions. “I’ll be quick then.”

The dog stayed in the car with him, whining as its mistress left and walked alone down the street. Lex looked into his mirror and shushed, trying to distract the animal.

“You’re not going to blow our cover now, are you?”

The dog made a low-pitched whine and laid down on the whole seat.

“Good boy.”

Brenda returned with two children, boy and girl who wore matching green scarves, knit colored hats and gloves. The dog jumped and hopped around in the car, wagging its tail and barking with joy until Brenda opened the passenger door to load her children in the back. They cheered and petted their dog, making the car bounce on its suspension. Lex waited until Brenda was back inside and turned on the ignition.

“Alright kids,” she called over her shoulder. “Seat belts! And say hello to Lex. He’s a friend.”

“Hi,” said the girl, who looked no older than ten,

“Hello Lex,” the boy said, he was younger, fumbling with the clip of his strap.

Brenda breathed out and settled in her chair, looking over at Lex with relief.

“Okay, we’re ready.”

She was his navigator and gave him the directions to reach her apartment without taking the main roads. It was an old building and she claimed to own the basement as well as the whole first floor. It looked like a bar or restaurant. 

“You want a cup of coffee?” she offered as she opened her door.

Lex wasn’t sure about leaving his car on the roadside but there were no available car parks. At least it was in a remote part of southern Brooklyn. The children took the dog’s leash and headed inside as soon as she unlocked the entrance door.

Stepping out of his comfort zone, he followed her downstairs out of curiosity and for the sake of the alliance he was building between humans and the Sun Hunters. If Brenda could help recruit more people to their cause, she was worth trusting. Or if this was a trap he was eager to spring it, and get rid of this liability.

“Kids, pack your stuff, only take what you absolutely need to survive, we’ll come back for your toys, alright?”

She returned to him in the living room, dropping her own carry-all bag full of clothes before she went to the kitchen and he heard the sound of a pressure machine. He decided to wait, hands dug in his pockets as he looked around the furnished place, cluttered with family pictures. She was in only a few of them, most of the other ones showed her children with what he assumed was their father. A tall half-bald athletic male with tan skin. A Marine veteran. There were medals hanging over the TV set. His eyes stopped on a wedding picture where the US Marine was holding hands with a tall, curly-haired brunette who looked pretty enough to be a model. It took him a moment to realize it was Brenda.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said coming with two cups of hot coffee which she placed on the table and sat on the couch. “Didn’t have any time for the house with the relocation.”

Her hydroponic garden had taken a while but it was moved to the underground shelter. All that remained were her personal items and what was left of her family.

“Please sit,” she told him, watching him hesitate. “You’re starting to make me nervous.”

He complied, sat on the couch beside her and took his beverage. 

“You seemed pretty relaxed around those strigoi in full body armor.”

“I was meaning to ask you about that,” she said, squinting slightly with puzzlement. “About Gwen… Is it something that happens to all of you? Are you next?”

“Am I going to be turned, is that your question?” he retorted bluntly.

Brenda held her ground and did not flinch. 

“I'd say it's a valid concern. Gwen was-  _ is _ a good person. Why did it happen to her?”

He held his tongue as he felt remorse eating at him. There was nothing he could have done to change the course of action taking place before him. He had stood there and froze, as if time had stopped and even the impassioned fury of Duz trying to fight for her had amounted to nothing. He had let fate wrap its claws around Gwen, if anything else he had facilitated the inevitable. 

“Gwen chose to join the Sun Hunters and the best way she knew was to become strigoi. The Ancients are able to preserve sentience when they turn someone. But it's a rare privilege.”

“I was shocked. I assumed it was an accident from being too close to the others...”

Lex took a sip of coffee before it would get lukewarm. 

“Only the Ancients can transmit the worms. Once a Sun Hunter is turned, the worms stay in their nervous system.”

“So, are you going to become one?” she asked and arched an eyebrow. 

Lex smirked and chuckled. “Why does it matter to you?”

Her eyes searched his face, working up an answer. He took in a breath and leaned back, sensing that she was confused or hadn't made up her mind about something. 

“I was chosen for my skills and have been working for a year with them as a human. That's not going to change, unless they still need me in a hundred years.”

She thoughtfully sank down her drink and the children came out from their rooms with backpacks. The taller one, the girl, looked straight at him with suspicious blue eyes. 

“Mom, where is this man taking us?”

Brenda got up and led her children away and knelt down, holding their hands. 

“We're going to be living with a group of people who are fighting against the Partnership. Lex is one of them. He has very powerful friends who can protect us.”

“But,” shyly said the boy, “what about  _ our _ friends?”

The girl stood rigid and did not say a thing, staring down hard at her mother. Brenda's bright eyes were tearing up. 

“You'll see them again, I promise. We're going to help save everyone, but for that I need you both to be strong, and do exactly as you're told. Okay?”

The boy nodded repeatedly while the girl just responded with a flat “okay” and let go of her mother's hand. Brenda made a painful smile and took them to the kitchen where she prepared dinner. It was getting late. Lex got to his feet and walked by the dog who was waiting for his own food. 

Brenda was cutting carrots when he stayed in the doorway. 

“I guess you're staying over for dinner,” she said, putting water to boil on the stove. “Please, it would be good for us.”

Her demand sounded like a plea for mercy. The children were setting the table for four. The boy was putting up glasses and almost dropped one. Lex bent down to catch the cup right before it hit the floor. 

“Sorry,” the kid said. 

He was oddly suppressed and apologetic for a young child. Lex ruffled his dark hair. 

“It's okay,” he told him. “What's your name?”

“Jack.”

Lex looked at the girl. “And you?”

She looked at her mother before facing him. 

“Alice.” She lowered her brow under her black hair. “Are you really a friend of our mother?”

“Alice!” Brenda scolded, looking over her shoulder while she was working on a sauce. “Be nice.”

“It's alright,” Lex said, feeling glad that he didn't need to fake politeness with the children. “I work for people who have been at war with the strigoi for a very long time. They are immortal, just like the strigoi but they want us humans to be free.”

Their faces lit with interest. Jack climbed on a chair and listened intently. Alice was setting down forks and knives, turning over the dull blade. 

“So what do they do to children?” she asked. “We can't fight.”

Lex smiled. She was smart. 

“They make sure they live and remain safe with their family.”

“And what about dogs?” the boy worriedly asked. 

“Dogs are fine, too.” 

Jack beamed and fidgeted in his chair. 

“Will you stay with us and help mommy?”

“Jack, oh my god!” Alice snapped at him. 

Brenda looked back and gave a half-hearted rebuttal. 

“Don't pay attention to him,” she said, bitter. “Someone at school told them that their father needs to be replaced.”

“They also said that you need to give us more brothers and sisters,” Alice said, just as angrily. 

Then she looked at Lex. He rolled his eyes up and crossed his arms. 

“And do you listen to everything they tell you in school?”

They shook their heads and Lex took upon himself to help Brenda with the food. He hung his coat in the entrance and helped drain the pasta and serve the meals. They ate dinner as a family at the table, with the children arguing about fiction stories learned in class, and Brenda correcting some of the propaganda that was fed to them regarding strigoi. 

Lex finished his plate, wiping tomato sauce from his mouth with a napkin he checked his phone for any missed messages. 

They all widened their eyes at him. 

“About that,” Brenda asked, “I saw your…  _ friend _ using one of those, how does it work without mobile networks?”

He put down the smartphone on the table and Jack leaned over to inspect it closely. 

“We use an old subradio antenna and landlines as replacement for GSM. I had to modify each phone for them to use that system.”

“It's amazing no one has figured that out before.” She took a sip of water. 

“Well, subradio waves are long and impractical for digital communications, so they need to be combined with another medium to carry data, it takes special equipment and not everyone has access to military radio emitters from the Cold War.”

Realizing that he was rambling, he stood and picked up the empty plates to start washing up. Brenda took the hint and got her children to clean up and finish preparing. 

She returned to the kitchen when he was done with the pots and utensils, drying his hands with a towel. 

“You're not a family man,” she commented, bringing black curls around her ears. “I get it. This all feels… Uncomfortable?”

“That's irrelevant,” he replied, wishing she would just take her coat and be out the door. “I just need to get you to safety.”

Staring at the floor was a good alternative to facing her judging gaze. 

He caught himself wishing he had the same repulsive bone structure as Vaun or Quinlan. Duz had softer features, which probably explained why Gwen fancied him in the first place. But if Lex did turn then his outer appearance would match how he constantly felt inside. 

“For what it's worth,” she said, folding her arms against her breasts, “thank you. For being here. You're not a typical guy. It probably comes with the company you keep, right?”

“Every man is responsible for his actions.” He thought of Duz, and Gwen, and why he was so worried about becoming friendly with someone. “The Sun Hunters don't dictate my behavior.”

He walked passed her even though she stood in the way, ignoring how close they were when he retrieved his coat next to the door. The dog followed him, enthusiastically wagging its tail. 

That wasn't a life for him, he had made his choices and carried on to see them through. Family, love, companionship. Those were distractions. 

The bunker was no convenient place for a pet, and accommodating the dog required special organization among the humans. Jessica offered to walk him but Brenda insisted to do it herself. Lex suspected that she would once more get in trouble like she did in Marine Park. 

With the children they were placed in one of the family suites with two small extra rooms. While still worried, they were excited to settle in their new lodging. There were books, toys and even an old black-and-white TV set with a radio. The dog wandered the place, exploring every corner and room. 

“It's like going on vacation for them,” Brenda said, taking off her jacket and rolling up the sleeves of her green flannel shirt. “It's so warm in here.”

“If you need fresh air you can turn off the heater,” he motioned towards the control panel near the door. 

Brenda nodded and her eyes laid upon him, he took in a deep breath, apprehending her next question. Her voice was barely over a whisper. 

“And if I need to contact you?”

Deciding to humor her attempt, Lex raised a corner of his mouth and buried his hands in his pockets. 

“Don't run into danger again.”

She furrowed her thin eyebrows and took a step forward before he could turn around and leave. 

“No one tells me what to do,” she hissed. 

He unclenched his teeth to give her one final answer before stepping out.

“Suit yourself.”

Walking away from the situation, he recounted the many times in his life he’d made himself feel ill at ease for the sake of sociability. 

He hoped they would never have to leave the shelter, that the children wouldn't run into Vaun or Lar before the operation was over. The humans only needed to come out, storm the draining facility, and come back with the survivors. 

The stock of chemical fertilizers from Brenda’s providers had arrived the day before, and Jessica's men were adding the finishing touches on the detonators before connecting them to explosive charges. Lex oversaw their security measures and procedures. He would have preferred not to have anyone working on IEDs inside the shelter but it was the most secluded place to do things out of the Partnership’s radar. 

While most of them slept he kept watch for the most part of the night, like the previous week as he and Duz would share shifts. He sat awake in the central room, all the lights were off save for emergency markers on the floor and his desk lamp. He had an old portable radio that would only play smooth old time jazz on his desk while he fixed a walkie-talkie scavenged by one of the resistants. It was nearly three in the morning and he was missing a new transistor and the motherboard circuit was too rusty. He dropped the useless pile of electronics on the table, removed his glasses and ran his palms over his tense face. 

The sound of the elevator couldn't have been more welcome at this hour. 

He could recognize the sound of that gait anywhere. The leader of the Sun Hunters looked side to side as he approached the central desks, pensively emitting a rumble as he stood next to Lex. 

“I didn't know you needed eye correction.”

Vaun inspected his work, supporting himself on the table. Lex put his glasses back on to clean up the bits and pieces of the walkie. 

“It's because of all those years staring at X-ray images,” he told him. “How are things with the Ancients?”

“They are satisfied with the new addition to our ranks,” Vaun said, diplomatic. He looked for a chair that he pulled over to sit down. “It's unusual, such positive feelings… but it's spreading, inspiring the others to fight harder.”

Lex was perplexed by the lack of contestation about having Gwen join the Hunters, Vaun appeared at ease with it. Almost pleased. His smile looked genuine. 

“You share their feelings, right? When they're happy together, the nest feels happy, too?”

Meshing his fingers over his midsection, Vaun clocked an eyebrow at him. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy there, Havlik?”

He steeled his heart, unwavering. “I'm not letting it affect my perception.”

“Ah,” Vaun let out a sigh, “living vicariously through others is part of human behaviour. If you need to find your own mate and continue your own legacy, then go ahead.”

Legacy. Lex still held onto the scribbled note left by his parents last year. He had yet to investigate what his legacy had in store, and he believed it wasn't here, in New York. 

“I have specific plans in mind,” he confided to Vaun. “Once this is all over, when New York is secured I need to find my family. They fled to Prague as soon as they could.”

“And you want to know if they're still alive,” pensively assumed Vaun. 

“I need to know what's out there, what my uncle knows and how they're fighting the outbreak, or the Partnership if there even is one.”

Vaun’s eyelids twitched. “The Sun Hunters in Europe are barely existent. If you think you could make a difference, going there… We have to protect the Ancients. Self-preservation is the priority.”

It was his incentive, to look toward the future and understand his purpose. Why did this all full upon him? 

“You knew about my family before I joined,” he risked, hearing the accusation in his tone. “For how long, Vaun?”

But Vaun did not relent from his stare, kept a relaxed back as he waited. Lex leaned backward in his chair.

“The people behind the attack, ten years ago,” began Vaun, “had nothing to do with us. If you haven’t noticed, we’re not thugs.”

Lex froze his gaze. He muttered. “So how do you know about it?”

“Quinlan.” He almost shrugged, crossing his arms as he inspired to explain himself. “He dug up an old complaint you filed at the police station. The precinct is deserted, he actually brought us a copy.”

“Okay, technicalities aside,” Lex sighed, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids. He dropped the glasses on the table. “Do we still not know who was behind it?”

It had ruined his life. Crushed his body and spirit. Cold hatred, anger and revenge had ruled his existence ever since.

“Would it help you quit your whining if you find out?”

Lex ignored the jab at his pride. “No promises.”

“Then go to Prague and ask your uncle. Odds are that he has the answers to your pestering questions.”

“You're suggesting that he's behind all of this? Having me beaten to a pulp, get me to become paranoid and train in martial arts?”

Vaun pinched his lips, unimpressed. “You should be grateful. Your friend wasn't that lucky. Yes, she had a normal human life, but in the end she lost all of it.”

“I wouldn’t advise getting nearly killed in order to find meaning in life,” Lex told him.

“But it worked for you,” dryly replied Vaun. “And it worked for her.”

Lex crossed his arms.  _ Asshole. _ Life was harsh but they were talking about threatening people’s lives, showing them the face of death.

“About that,” he calmly replied. “Maybe it's best if she doesn't show up here, it would send the wrong message to those who might believe we're going to turn all of them.”

Vaun looked back at him sideways. “We're clear on this. No more fraternizing.”

There was a faint sound in direction of the family rooms and Vaun raised his brow, ears perked at attention and a door creaked open. The pitter-patter of paws and claws brushing the floor preceded the hushed call of children.

“Roger, come back!”

It was Jack, the young boy, running after the dog in his pijamas. Alice followed, leash in hand, neither caught up with the dog before it reached Vaun.

He stood and raised an open palm as he softly hissed and the dog stopped at a safe distance from him, growling and barked once. Lex stayed back and watched Vaun quietly easing up to the animal, putting a knee down and the dog calmly walked up to him for petting. It smelled him and ran its wide tongue over Vaun’s chin, panting affectionately in his face. The children halted and watched mouth agape as their dog was befriending a strigoi. 

It seemed Vaun hadn’t smiled in a long time when Lex watched his expression as he gave the dog ear scratches before looking at the children. Alice called her dog to heel and clipped the leash to its collar. They looked scared, yet curious enough to stay and not go into panic.

“My name is Vaun,” he gently told them. “And who are you?”

They looked up at Lex and he acquiesced to them with a blink of his eyes. Understanding that it was safe to respond, Alice spoke first.

“I’m Alice. This is Jack.”

Vaun rumbled pensively as he looked at them.

“It’s nice to know you, Alice, Jack. I’m sorry if we woke you.”

“Are you a good guy?” shyly asked the boy, wide-eyed at the equipment and weapons.

“Of course.”

Lex had trouble processing what he was seeing. He’d never imagined Vaun being friendly, paternal even, with small children.

“So,” Alice began, hesitant, “you’re not going to eat us?”

Vaun supported himself on his knee as he got up. “I don’t eat children, or dogs.”

“And mommies?” Jack worriedly asked.

Vaun retained a smile, but his wide mouth always made him have a smirking look. 

“Nope,” he said. “Who is your mommy? And your daddy?”

Lex snorted and tried not to appear mocking his superior. 

“Only our mother,” said Alice, who was calming down. “Brenda. Our dad died last year. Lex helped us move in.”

“Ah, yes,” his voice trailed as he turned to him. “Lex is one of my best soldiers, and also my friend.” Vaun knelt down in front of the children again, raising a hairless eyebrow as he spoke slowly to grab their attention. “If you see anything strange happening here, if anyone is mean to you or to your mommy, I want you to come to me, or tell it to Lex. Deal?”

They nodded, smiled at him and clapped his extended hand in a high-five.

“Now go back to your room, you should be asleep.”

When they were gone, Vaun turned to walk with Lex towards his quarters. 

“You're good with kids,” he observed. “Better than I am. Even the dog liked you.”

“What's your point?”

Vaun stared hard at him and Lex reminded himself that strigoi didn't need to sleep, whereas he was reaching his limit after being awake for twenty hours. 

“The rest of these people might not be as well-behaved when they see you,” Lex said, repressing a yawn as he opened the door to his room. 

Vaun snorted a laugh. “Everyone is children to me here.”

“They’ll be glad to have a new babysitter.”

He smirked at the growl Vaun made when he left and Lex closed the door to get some sleep.

It hadn't always been this fair. But if anyone asked, Lex would have shrugged off the first months of his introduction to the Sun Hunters. 

  
  


His first real encounter with death could have been stretched over an inspecific period of time. The least pleasant memory was the first time he had to clean up the Ancients’ chamber. Mopping the floor of blood, urine, and other fluids he couldn’t identify had been his task as a new recruit. The difficult part, after trying to ignore the smells, was getting the grime off the floor when it was too dark to properly work. The concrete had taken on the permanent tint of red. He’d learned to ignore the Ancients after two days. They simply didn’t care about him.

When that was done, he was tasked with cleaning the sanitaries in the prisoner cells. He then had to empty the ashes in the incinerator. It wasn’t blasting the necessary high temperatures to reduce the skeletons down to fine powder, and the resulting pile of debris made him lose his appetite. He made sure that he’d finished digesting his meal prior to that activity.

“You realize they’re grinding you to blind obedience.”

Lex climbed out of the dark enclosure of the incinerating chamber and brushed himself off, his black overalls looking not-so-black anymore, covered in gray and white ashes. He coughed as he looked at Quinlan, who was standing in the doorway. Lex was certain he had breathed someone, or several people, into his lungs.

“As long as they’re making me do this, they don’t send me to hunt humans for them.”

The tall half-strigoi stared at him with sad white eyes. He always wore his coat and old battle harness. The last time he’d seen him, Lex had left him to find the pawnbroker.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Quinlan commanded him. “I want you to meet someone.”

He was used to obeying orders, whether it came from a senior security officer, or a century-old strigoi. A half-human from ancient times was nothing different. When Lex had quickly rinsed himself and changed into his black uniform and combat gear, he met Quinlan in the operations room. An older man was there in a suit and hat. He wielded a strange cane with a wolf head handle.

“Professor Abraham Setrakian,” Quinlan formally introduced, “this is Alexej Havlik. His grandfather was the last Sun Hunter in the Czech Republic.”

“A human working with strigoi… to hunt strigoi?”

His voice was grating with age and he took a few steps closer, as if to try to recognize or better memorize his face. Lex politely nodded.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Professor.”

Setrakian looked back at Quinlan. “It’s not muscle we need, it’s the Occido Lumen.”

Lex was unsure whether he should ask or preserve the man’s energy with his curiosity. He eyed the Born. 

“An old book,” explained Quinlan, “which is believed holds the key to destroying the Master.”

A book. Lex took a step forward under the ceiling light over the table.

“So there are actual records of the Ancients? Have they been killed before?”

“For hundreds of years the truth has been hidden from the world,” Setrakian said, clutching his cane as he supported himself. Lex pulled out a chair for him to sit, to which the tired man gratefully complied. “I have been searching for the Lumen for decades, and in my pursuit I made many enemies. Collaborators of the Master. They are here, in New York.”

The Ancients, the Sun Hunters… now Setrakian and a secret book were all pointing in the same direction. His own lineage included. Lex blinked several times before looking up to see Quinlan in an equally studious expression.

“My grandfather, did he know about this book?”

Quinlan’s eyes darted from him to Setrakian. “Are you suspecting that your family was sent here for a hidden purpose?”

His parents never spoke to him about Jaromir, his grandfather. They were nostalgic of their homeland, but never told him about his ancestors. So many secrets, untold stories were now being filled with mystery and he conspired that perhaps…

“They left the country last month to find my uncle in Prague,” he spoke under his breath. “My parents. They left me a note in my apartment.”

“Mister Havlik,” Setrakian intervened, “perhaps you should research your family’s whereabouts.”

He felt his chest thumping over his accelerated heart beat. Quinlan creased his brows together and leaned over the table, gloved hands holding the tabletop.

“If they fled knowing the strigoi couldn’t be defeated, what kind of parent would leave their son behind?”

“Maybe they didn’t know,” Lex tried to convince himself, shaking his head slowly. 

“They didn’t know the Sun Hunters were here,” Quinlan finished for him. “They tried to shelter you from your fate but you’re here now, with us.” 

Setrakian sized him up and Lex worried they were wasting time investigating his past.

“What Mister Quinlan is meaning to say,” explained Setrakian, “is that we have to work together. I have gathered a group of talented people, based in Red Hook. If you can find where we can locate the Master or the Lumen, I’d appreciate if you join us.”

He groaned and pulled himself up to stand. Lex looked at him and bit the inside of his cheek.

“My place is here,” he said, not without glancing at Quinlan. “If I can make a difference, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

Setrakian sighed and made his way out of the room, Lex followed and was intrigued as to how far the pawnbroker could navigate in the hallways.

“Don’t take too much time, Mister Havlik. I don’t share your faith in the Ancients. They are, after all, equals to the Master.”

Two Hunters escorted him out. Lex wasn’t familiar enough with them to recognize their faces, only Vaun, Lar and Duz were unmistakable so far.

He returned to speak to Quinlan around the table. The Born was sitting down now, legs crossed as he seemed lost in thought. He stood for a short moment wondering whether Quinlan even cared that someone else was in the room.

“You don’t look in a hurry to find the Lumen,” Lex attempted, pulling a chair to sit at the table.

Quinlan pulled off a glove to reveal long white fingers that he idly ran along his head before answering.

“The Professor is running out of time.”

Lex had noted the state of exhaustion of Setrakian, the labored breathing and pained stance.

“Well, he’s mortal,” Lex shrugged.

“He is quite old, isn’t he?”

He snorted and grinned at Quinlan who stayed stoic, but for only a second before he smiled back.

“Not as old as I am, I’ll grant you that. But for what the Professor has lived, it’s a wonder he is still alive to this day. Which is not regrettable, on the contrary... His work to hunt down the Master is remarkable. I understand why he would seek to prolong his life to such extent.”

Lex looked up and couldn’t ponder his line of thought. “Are you saying he’s not mortal?”

Pensively inspecting the thick layer over his glove, Quinlan returned a cold eye back at him.

“He needs help from an unnatural source,” he replied, “the very same thing that preserves a strigoi from dying of old age.”

“Is it really possible?” Lex asked with genuine interest. “Can a human become immortal without turning?”

Quinlan tilted his head with a skeptical look before he let out a short sigh.

“There have been experiments on strigoi since the dawn of time. Of course, humans have tried to cheat death with strigoi blood but it only worked for a time. As we can see with the Professor.”

“Why didn’t he just turn, like Vaun?”

He put his glove back on and looked towards the door. “That’s up to the Ancients.”

Footsteps were audible in the hallways, reaching their room and Lex got up as he saw Vaun and Lar stepping in the operations room. They both saw Quinlan lounging in his chair, fingers meshed over his midsection and the Born did not move. Lar crossed his arms and Vaun addressed Lex directly.   
  
“Nice of you to make friends with the old man but we have a job for you.”   
  
“Ah, and no chaperon this time?”   
  
“Duz will be minding the Born in your absence.”   
  
From his seating position, Quinlan loudly scoffed, mocking the Sun Hunter.   
  
“Come on,” Lar said, his narrow black eyes lingering on Quinlan before he motioned for Lex to follow him.   
  
They walked until they reached the armory and Lar unlocked a cabinet to retrieve a small metal suitcase.   
  
“We usually do this via proxy,” he told him, placing the case on the workbench. He punched in a combination and opened the lid. “But times are changing.”   
  
It was filled with cash. US dollars in small cuts. Lex tried to quickly calculate the sum but Lar closed the lid before he could finish.   
  
“I always wanted to go shopping with vampires,” he said, ironic.   
  
Lar exposed his short white teeth before picking up an eighteen ammo clip for his pistol.   
  
“We’re going to pick up an order. If we’re going to expand, we’ll need more rifles and a new arsenal.”   
  
He checked his gun before loading a round in the chamber and holstered the weapon to his left. Lex took the same precaution, making sure he wouldn’t fall short in case of heavy fire.   
  
Lar drove the Tahoe out in the night, having pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. Lex couldn’t drive that way, but he didn’t have the fine hearing of strigoi who compensated for blind spots. Lar took them south, in direction of the airport. Lex tried to make conversation.   
  
“So, who are we meeting?”   
  
Under the passing street lamps he could see Lar’s focused expression as he kept both hands on the steering wheel.   
  
“Our overseas contractor,” he told him. “We’ve been working with them for a long time. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”   
  
They reached the industrial storage areas far from the airport grounds. Lex had taken this route a few times to avoid traffic on his work commute. Lar steered into a dark yard with an already open security gate.   
  
“How do we know it’s safe here?”   
  
Lar stopped the car once they entered an airplane hangar. It looked out of order and was empty. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see a van parked right in front of them, fifty paces away.   
  
Lar unfastened his seat belt and looked over at Lex.   
  
“Let me do the talking.”   
  
He could see movement around the black van in front of them, and the headlights came on. He saw at least two armed men wearing green camouflage, balaclava and black combat vests were now standing outside in the hangar.   
  
“Professor Setrakian called me  _ muscle _ earlier,” thoughtfully commented Lex. “I can get used to not talking.”   
  
“Good.”   
  
Lar opened the door and Lex followed, he kept his eyes peeled as he saw a third individual coming out of the passenger’s side of the bigger vehicle. A female in a long black trench coat. She had blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She was dolled up like an air hostess.   
  
“Dobryy vecher,” she spoke in quaint Russian.   
  
Lex only understood the greeting, the rest was just noise to him. Lar responded in equal measure, his mastery of the language catching him aback. He still couldn’t pinpoint where his slight accent came from.   
  
“Priyatna nakonets vstretit'sya lichna.” It was good to see her in person, apparently. Lar’s hands were not far from his holster as he tilted his head towards the armed henchmen behind the blonde. “Vse v poryadke?”  _ Is there something wrong? _   
  
She smiled back at him, squinting her eyes. “Net.” She spoke again in a long sentence Lex couldn’t completely decipher. She held her shoulders rigid, feet set apart and her hands dug deep in her coat pockets.   
  
Lar used his right hand to pull back his hood, exposing his face to the woman. Her smile faded and the mercenaries behind her raised their black, special operations AK-47’s.   
  
“Uspokoysya,” Lar told them to calm down, his lips tilting up as he took a slow step forward. He eventually got close enough to the woman and he spoke even more quietly, but Lex heard him nonetheless. “This place is surrounded by strigoi. If you kill us, you eliminate your only chance to get out of here alive.”   
  
She lifted up her chin in defiance, pursing her red-painted lips.   
  
“We have enough guns and explosives to last until sunrise,” she spoke back with almost no accent.   
  
“ _ My _ guns,” he corrected, standing only slightly taller than her. “And since we’re on the topic: you picked a poorly secured location. I’m cutting off your share for whatever we waste in ammunition to get us out of here.”   
  
The Russian bodyguards got antsy and looked at each other before aiming their sights on Lar and him. But Lar extended a hand in his direction. Lex complied and did not respond to the threat.   
  
“Tell your men to stand down,” he hissed. “Or I’ll dispose of them myself and save you the expenses.”   
  
She turned her head and ordered her associates to lower their weapons. They obeyed her, but not after a moment of hesitation. Lex kept his wits about them. Russian mobsters who had access to guns were generally trained by the FSB and were in shortage of work. He never thought he’d ever encounter the Spetsnaz before, lest imagined he’d be dealing with them siding with a strigoi.   
  
Lar signaled for him to go to their car. Lex came back with the heavy suitcase which he opened for Lar to divide the shares. One of the Russians arrived with an empty duffle bag and Lar began to fill it with money.   
  
“A hundred thousand was what we agreed on the phone, you get half of it now. The other half, minus the wasted ammo when we’re done here.”   
  
The blonde gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils but kept a relaxed demeanor. Lex hoped she could hear the rattles and growling of incoming rogue strigoi all around the hangar.   
  
“You’re exactly the confident man I imagined for all those years,” she told Lar, her eyes riveted on him, not displaying any sign of worry about the cash transfer. “Everything seems to be going well for you. Almost as if you had planned this.”   
  
Lar nodded to Lex and he closed the case and quickly brought it back to the truck. When he arrived he saw one Russian man coming back with two full duffle bags. After a quick inspection, and with Lex’s help the weapons were now in the Tahoe. When he returned he saw Lar pulling out his pistol. The Spetsnaz raised their AK’s again. His stone-cold expression was concerned on a different matter, however.   
  
“Cover the back entrance. My associate and I will take the front.” He pointed a gloved finger at the two men and angrily warned them. “Ne strelyay v moyu mashinu!”  _ Don’t shoot my car. _ They both lightly chuckled at him in response.   
  
Lex would have laughed if his instincts weren’t amping him up for combat as he clearly heard the sounds of hungry monsters surrounding them. He followed Lar to the back of the SUV and was given a Scorpion submachine rifle. Lar slung his own weapon and disengaged the security.   
  
He looked up at Lex and creased his forehead, worriedly repeating himself in English.   
  
“Don’t-”   
  
“-shoot the car,” Lex finished. “I got it.”   
  
His half smile was reassuring. Lar nodded sharply with a friendly “spasiba” and raised his rifle towards the first strigoi who appeared in the yard outside the hangar.   
  
The rifles had no suppressor, so the shots resonated in the wide open space in the night, the noise drawing in even more stragglers and famished, recently turned strigoi. Lex shot down the first row of mindless invaders, disturbed by the loud cracking fire of the Kalashnikovs behind him.   
  
Twelve dead corpses littered the ground, followed by ten more as Lar advanced on their position and unclipped a frag grenade from his vest.   
  
“Behind you!” he shouted at Lex.   
  
Following his training, Lex lunged forward and rolled to turn around, aiming his gun at a deployed proboscis coming from an attacker, a lean but motivated blood sucker with a missing eye. Its head blew up in a white splash of brains and worms. Another one came right after, but was shot clean through the neck. Lex got to his feet and saw that the female Russian had dealt with his surprise mugger.   
  
He turned again to see Lar reloading, but three strigoi were moving in on him. Lex shot one, two, then the third was dealt a fatal knife stab in the ear. Lar pulled it out and kicked its knee broken. The strigoi instantly fell down and the knife was thrown dead-center into a strigoi of large proportions. He shouldered his Scorpion and shot two others coming late to the party.   
  
The front entrance was cleared but they still heard the Russians firing their weapons and the voice of the blonde drew their attention. Lar sped across the hangar and Lex ran after him, but far too slowly as a mere human. He aimed at a strigoi nearest to the van the Russians were already dealing with it, twisting its head off while the second merc was using his pistol to dispatch another.   
  
Lar had reached the woman and shoved a strigoi that hit the side of the van with a loud bang. It screeched at him and he held out his pistol, squeezed the trigger and the truck was painted in white stains. He turned to the blonde and she was clutching her gun with steady hands. But Lar strode towards her, determined to grab her left arm and she tried to free herself from him. He rattled and he had a short knife in hand as he held her elbow locked under his right arm.   
  
“Don’t move,” he menacingly told her, and dug his blade into the pink flesh.   
  
She screamed with rage, deep red blood spilled from her. A worm was squiggling manically as it was making its way into her veins. Lex cringed his teeth and helped Lar by holding the woman’s other arm. The two Spetsnaz tried to help as well, by not pointing their guns at them.   
  
The worm was out. Lar held it tightly between his gloved fingers and he threw it on the ground before stomping it. Once freed, the woman was panting and holding her bleeding forearm.   
  
“It’s too late,” she sighed with frustration. “I’m still going to turn.”   
  
Lar looked up and pulled out a rag from his pockets to wipe the blood from his knife. His stinger churned within his chest.   
  
“I gave you more time,” he muttered.   
  
“Kill me,” she bitterly said. “I’m not going to mope in my last moments.”   
  
He stared at her, and seeing his unwillingness to comply, she nodded at her henchmen. One of the Spetsnaz heartlessly pointed his AK at her temple.   
  
The click of Lar’s SP01 was first to grab their attention and the bodyguard-turned-executioner froze.   
  
“Shall we finish the transaction now?” threatened Lar. “You all die, and I take back my other half of the money. Your boss will go after your families and friends for payback. How does that sound?”   
  
The merc relented his hold of the rifle. But she wouldn’t settle for appeasement. She rose her gun and shot him. Lex saw with wide eyes the masked man fall to his knees, brains splashed on the white-stained truck. The second merc held up his gun.   
  
Lex fired his Scorpion and around his head made the soldier drop his rifle. The woman fired a round, then two, which hit Lex in the chest plate. He staggered and pointed his rifle at her.   
  
She was disarmed by Lar, who held her down by twisting her arm in her back.   
  
“Sykin syn!” she spat.  _ Son of a bitch. _ __  
  
“Net ne tak,” Lar told in her ear. “You’re not going down like this, Anya.”   
  
Lex held his shoulder but kept his gun pointed at the merc who was leaning against the truck. He watched from the corner of his vision Lar taking the woman’s pistol and tossing it away. Her face was wet with tears when he released her. She took a deep breath but she was shaking, eyes wandering on her bloody hands. Lar pressed his lips into a slit and regretfully shook his head.   
  
“My daughter,” she whimpered with an angered breath. “Pavla. She lives in Saint Petersburg with her cousins. Will you make sure she gets the money?”   
  
“You have enough time to fly back home,” Lar replied. “You can say your goodbyes.”   
  
She wiped her face with the back of her hands and let out a labored breath.   
  
“We both know that’s not possible.”   
  
Her steel blue eyes went from Lex, to her bodyguard, then to the one in front of her.   
  
“I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Lar.”   
  
His head lowered for a second. When he brought his gaze upon her again he held his back straight, left hand at his side securely holding the gun.   
  
Lex parted his lips to speak up. Lar did before him.   
  
“What should I tell Pavla?”   
  
Anya looked sideways into the darkness, a shadow of a smile waved across her face.   
  
“Something nice.”   
  
He blinked once, then raised up his left arm.   
  
“I’ll make sure she hears  __ something nice then,” he spoke with a half-hearted smirk.   
  
Lex looked away. He heard Anya’s small laugh then a pause.    
  
The gunshot rang loudest than any other.   
  
Darkness filled the hangar again as they watched the soldier leave with the money sitting in the back of his truck alongside the bodies of his two partners. He was contract-bound to fulfill the deal, make sure the money would go into the right hands, and guarantee that the Sun Hunters would keep a good standing with the Russians.   
  
Sitting at the wheel of the SUV, Lar was silent, unmoving. After a quick inspection of his uniform, Lex found no worms caught in his combat gear. He glanced over to his left.   
  
Lar had his head leaning against the backrest of his seat, and turned the key in the ignition to let the engines roar and cover the silence. Lex didn’t know what to say. He attempted an agreeable platitude.   
  
“She seemed nic-”   
  
“Shut up.”   
  
He clammed up at the sight of the red-rimmed black eyes that threw darts at him. They were unscathed. They had restocked on weapons and ammunition. The relations with their contractor were preserved.   
  
But he wasn’t too sure about Lar.

 

He woke up at the muffled sound of people walking, talking in the hallways of the nuclear shelter. After a quick shower, Lex dressed and suited up. He was surprised that, at six in the morning, no one was eating breakfast. Everyone was preparing their ammunition, survival equipment and walkies. In the maelstrom of combat preparation, he found Vaun standing with Lar, Duz and Quinlan at the central desk. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Vaun greeted him, arms crossed in expectation. 

Lex looked over the gathering of Sun Hunters and felt his mouth twist upwards. 

“If I were an actual sunshine you'd all be squinting pretty hard.”

Duz pursed his lips and hissed. “How do you call that again? A sick burn?”

Quinlan smirked amusingly and looked at Lex with his hands clasped in his back. 

“The time for procrastinating is over,” he spoke out. “We are taking down the Partnership’s draining facility, and the collaborators who run the breeding clinic.”

In the midst of the agitation among humans who had no time to stand around and chat, there was barking before a dog and two children giggled as they chased each other across the compound. Lex watched them sprinting towards the cantina, and when he turned back around he caught the eye of a pensive Lar. 

Vaun let out a soft rattle in his chest and Duz shifted his footing, looking at Lex from under lowered brows. 

“Everyone who won't fight will remain safe down here. The humans kept rooms available for the survivors.”

“Good to know. But where is Gwen?”

“She won't show herself,” Duz said with a lowered voice. “But she will join us later on.”

Lex observed the shelter and counted roughly twenty people ready to deploy at a moment's notice, to do as much damage as possible to the Partnership. 

Jessica arrived and stopped in front of him, looking aghast at the strigoi standing in a semi-circle. She wore a black knit hat over her curly red hair. Her dark clothes reminded him of the guerrilleros who fought against past dictatorships. 

“We got the truck loaded and in position,” she said, adjusting the slings of her backpack full of explosives. “Ready when you are.”

He nodded for her to leave and get ready, and turned to see Vaun and Lar quietly conversing with each other. Duz was giving medpacks from the storage units to people with extra room in their pouches. He last registered the contemplative Quinlan. 

He was taller and least talkative of them all, observing the humans uniting to fight together, as if he had done so countless times before. 

“This is why I stayed,” Lex confided, “I couldn't leave the Sun Hunters when Setrakian asked me.”

The Born kept a neutral expression yet Lex sensed a light feeling of admiration. 

“I never doubted your commitment to do good, Alexej. I see that a lot has changed for the better.”

“Yeah…” His thoughts wandered as he felt the weight of his past experiences pulling him down. “It will take many more sacrifices before we can call it a win.”

He caught with a sideways glance the amused smirk over Quinlan's scarred mouth. 

“You're beginning to sound like me.”

 

 


	12. Letting go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sun Hunters launch an attack on the Partnership, rescuing the victims and prisoners which peaks interest for those who like B-positive blood. Gwen gets a chance at her old life again while getting to know her fellow hunters in a different light.

Chapter 12: Letting go

 

In these depths and surrounded by heavy materials that protected the nuclear shelter, silence took a whole new meaning. When it was quiet Gwen was struck with the discovery that her ears no longer heard the background noise of the nest. She felt cut off from a large portion of feelings and thoughts that she realized were distinct from her own perception. 

Now it was only her, and the passing motions of what she sensed when interacting with Duz, Lar and Vaun who were present with her. Now isolated in her room, she took a moment to reflect and center her thoughts. 

She was going back to her workplace. Putting aside her nagging thought that she was forgetting something, like her work uniform, she focused her full-spectrum sight on the Partnership staff badge with her name and picture. There was a holographic imprint on the surface of the card which looked like plain metallic paint now. But her photograph seemed alien to her. She used to have such full cheeks and small eyes like a porcelain doll. Her black hair was always tied back for work. 

Now it was all gone. She looked like a short, Buddhist monk Sun Hunter in a little red hood and a curved knife so long it was almost a big machete at her belt. Three days had gone by since she had turned. Her reflection no longer upset her as much as it did initially, though if she stared at herself for too long she found that the lack of feminine features on her face ironically reminded her of the insecurities of her past. She kept a small pouch of dark makeup now to darken her eyelids and lips. It was a comfort more than vanity. 

A knock on the door tore her from her reverie and she was up to open and see the tall Quinlan. She couldn't sense his feelings and thoughts as they were not of the same family of strigoi. He was different, older and more… altered. Gwen found that his face had more pronounced strigoi attributes and sharper angles. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. He had brought something in a small canvas bag.

She nodded and stepped aside to let him in. There were still people that could catch sight of her. 

“I don't want to have to explain myself just yet,” she told her combat instructor. “They have seen me before I turned.”

She handed him her badge so he could see her former self. He held it, one side of his mouth rising as he looked back at her. 

“I'm glad the resemblance is still there.”

“I was the only girl with them,” she said. “They can take a wild guess.”

The badge was safe back in her trouser pocket. She took a breath and again was at a loss now, feeling on her own without the whispers of the nest. Duz must have been distraught as well, the first night he had spent here, with her. 

“I don't know if I'm ready,” she replied, settling his concern. “We'll see once we're out there.”

Those unblinking white eyes were a hard look to withstand but she repressed a smile. 

Quinlan held up the bag he had brought to extract what looked like a harness. It was black and made with heavy duty tactical nylon and was fixed with clips and rivets to carry a leather scabbard. 

“Oh… That's lovely,” she said before realizing it was meant for her. “Thank you, Quinlan. Did you make this?”

“Are you surprised?” he humored her. “Do you think I've been using the same equipment without learning to repair it for two thousand years?”

“Well,” she hesitated. His own leather harness looked worn and she didn't know exactly how old it was. “It could have come from a stockpile of gear from the Sun Hunter armory.”

He scowled at her but his smirk remained. “I am hurt that you would think so little of me, dear Gwen.”

She put it on for fitting and he helped her adjust the straps around her arms. The combat vest was wide and needed to be accounted for when adding more gear. 

“Looks good!”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Great handywork, a good thing I had help from Vaun.”

She puffed air out of her lips and he gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Her sword was lying on the table and found its rightful place between her shoulder blades as she practiced sheathing her weapon. Her combat gear was heavy with ammo clips, a walkie to stay in touch with the crew and especially the armor plating. 

She looked over at Quinlan and couldn't see where he stored his ammo for the two Uzi's he packed. He didn't even have body armor. 

“When you get overwhelmed, remember the plan,” he instructed. “Don't stray from the others.”

The faint sound of the elevator hummed through the walls, then it was quiet. They left the room and Gwen, with the hood pulled over her head, saw with relief an almost empty shelter. But Brenda was out mingling with Lex who was wearing his combat outfit with extra pouches and even goggles. Duz was standing nearby and noticed Gwen arriving at the central desk. Brenda followed his gaze and she smiled at her. 

“I put the little monsters back in their room,” she reassured her. “ _ My _ monsters, if you catch my joke…”

“That's good,” Gwen, “thanks for working with us. Come to think of it, I'm one less mouth to feed now.”

Brenda looked perplexed at her while Duz and Lex laughed softly. Gwen comically pulled out her tongue. She had smelled something delicious upon arriving during the night, keeping her stinger calm had been a feat. And now that she was near Brenda she identified that the source of her interest was not her… But the fresh and sweet blood of her young.

“We better get going,” Duz said, saving her from further morbid contemplation. 

Lex nodded and his eyes met Brenda’s. He spoke briefly. 

“Take care.”

“You too,” she replied, her voice tight in her throat. 

Gwen heard her elevated heartbeat, while Lex was moderately animated but his outside demeanor was calm. Gwen pressed her lips tight to conceal her enthusiasm at seeing her friend being fond of someone. She shared a look with Duz. 

“I guess we'll see you later with lots of guests,” she told Brenda. 

When it was time to leave there was no hug, the tension was too high and Gwen preferred to get the day over with. 

Quinlan walked ahead and pressed the button to call the elevator. Each of them checked that they hadn't forgotten their communication earphone sets, and cloned key cards to access all parts of the facility. Lex had worked an entire day on them, and another scavenging the city to find a an electronic card printer. 

The long and quiet ride up to the surface weighed on her and she felt her stinger groaning nervously. 

Duz and Quinlan both looked at her and she felt her embarrassment without the usual sensation of her face blushing. She had no blood to flow up to her face, she would be forever pale as a seashell. 

“Are you alright?” Lex worried.

His blue eyes stayed on her and she reacted by letting her small fangs show enthusiastically. His shoulders relaxed as he chuckled. 

They moved in the darkness of the underground tunnels below the city. With enhanced strigoi vision she could navigate perfectly without lights and Lex used his infrared visor in areas too dark. 

She focused her senses on smells, trying to keep Duz in mind when the odors were too strong, when she felt sick but unable to vomit. The tunnel was narrow and he walked beside her and the others in front of them couldn't see. She felt his hand in hers, having let go of his assault rifle, letting it hang from its sling. He gave her a light squeeze before taking a deep breath and she saw his face take on a placid expression. 

Once they neared the basement of the facility they put on their masks. Gwen realized she did not have one, clutching at the straps of her pouches. What if someone flashed her with a UV light? What if she was recognized?  

Duz lifted up his own face cover and came to her. 

“You know where the security cameras are. Once you disable the feed none of us will need these anymore.”

She knew their strategy but she still mentally fumbled with loose ends. 

“What if I get stuck,” she muttered, suppressing the nervousness in her voice. “What if I can't kill Gerry? And my old coworkers…”

What if she made a mistake and got killed? Or worse… if she caused them to fail.

Her eyes couldn't focus on anything until she met the concerned but stern gazes of Lex and Quinlan. Duz filled her vision and he placed his hands around her face. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks. The smell of him, his strength and beating heart were home, and the soothing affection that she had always longed for. She could have been anywhere and it would be just like in their room, their own private nest. She lowered her eyelids when his forehead was against hers. 

A chill ran down her spine and made her ears tingle as she heard his voice in her head. 

_ Your life is in our hands and you hold ours. In the hunt, we are one.  _

Her heart beat with renewed energy and she felt convinced she could take on her task. Gwen nodded, strangely imagining this as an impromptu initiation ceremony. Duz smiled, showing his white teeth as he continued.

“Come fight with us.”

Filled with pride and anticipation, she acquiesced. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“And you will be with Quinlan, you’ve nothing to be afraid of.”

Quinlan put on the earphone wired to his communications set. He eyed them skeptically and Gwen felt a heavy hand patting her back. She turned to see Lex and was wrapped in an embrace. He definitely smelled different, like shaving products and deodorant, and so predominantly male.

“I won't be far,” he told her, and she heard the unmistakable tremor of emotion in his voice. “We’re in this together.”

“Okay,” she replied, patting his back to be released. “Thanks… I didn’t know you liked Nine Inch Nails.”

His puzzled look made her want to laugh.

They proceeded into the compound going from the basement up. She found the maintenance entrance that connected to the sewage department. In the emergency generator room they headed for the controls to the main power lines that supplied the security systems and overrides. She stood in front of the panel and control grid for almost a minute.

“I thought you knew how to operate these things,” Quinlan muttered next to her.

His hand extended towards a lever that would shut down the entire facility.

“Wait,” she stopped him. “We stick to the plan.”

The incoming personnel were the employees charged with handling the lockdown procedures in case of trespassing or crisis with the detainees. She turned around in time to see Duz and Lex disposing of the guards, their shots silenced by suppressors.

Gwen and Quinlan faced the control panel again like nothing happened.

“There,” he said, pointing at a key. “Surveillance?”

“We don’t want them to lockdown the cells in panic,” she said and reached for a button. “Central wireless network.”

“Ah, yes,” he commented as they heard and saw nothing change. “By the time they realize what’s going on, they won’t know what’s coming for them.”

They jogged for the elevator and Duz pulled up the gate, his Scorpion in the other hand while Lex shot and took down another human guard. Gwen pressed the key to the second floor where she could deal with surveillance. Checking her plastic sports watch, she timed two minutes, which was the average troubleshoot time for IT. 

Quinlan reached for his sides and pulled out his machine guns. Lex lowered his mask over his face, and Duz did nothing of the sort, only using his hood as relative concealment. The elevator stopped and they found no one at the entrance of the second floor, the hallway was dimly lit as usual. It was all so familiar, she had patrolled these premises for so long. 

“The office floor,” Lex said as a reminder. “Don’t give them a chance to trigger the alarm.”

She realized she had her pistol in hand, the safety was off and there would most likely be people on this level, the administrative floor with humans doing boring daily work. They would wish it would stay boring now. 

They had to split up. She took the left wing where she could reach the surveillance desk while Duz and Lex cleared the floor.

_ “How about a sitrep?” _

She almost gasped at the sound of Vaun’s voice in her earpiece. She took cover behind a corner of prefabricated wall panels. Quinlan stood in the opposite side. He pressed the key to reply on the walkie.

“Cameras will be offline in a minute.”

_ “Get on with it.” _

Vaun, Lar and the human resistance were in the logistics department, placing explosive charges at the base of the building. They needed a heads up to begin storming the facility and retrieve the prisoners.

Gwen pulled out her security badge and used it to open the card reader next to the office door. The light didn’t turn to green.

“Shit,” she hissed.

Quinlan stood near her. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “They canceled my credentials.”

It was a concern that made her worry for the cloned cards everyone else was using. She took a step back and looked at the door. A smile twisted her mouth as she looked back at him. 

“I always wanted to try this.”

She aimed her pistol at the lock, shot it, then quickly destroyed the two hinges on the other side of it. A firm kick in the door made it fall flat to the carpeted floor and they saw a balding man pressed against the opposite wall. He was shaking like a leaf, trying to make his phone work to call for security backup.

A salvo of Quinlan’s Uzi terminated the call, and Gerry’s life when two bullets hit his head.

Gwen made herself ignore the incident, holstered her gun and headed straight for the computer terminal and used the mouse to manually shut down all cameras at once. She then opened the network manager and it was confirmed that nothing came in through the intranet. 

She pressed her walkie and quietly spoke. “Systems offline. OK to proceed, all units...”

Daring not to look at her side, she could feel Quinlan toising her with an amused grimace and she pulled down her hood over her entire face.

“Okay!” she called. “Let’s go…”

She headed out of the office and cringed her jaws at the sight of two strigoi guards hissing and screeching at her. She didn’t know them, but they certainly could recognize her scent. Her pistol was up and she squeezed the trigger once, twice. They both were hit and met the floor in a splash of white. Quinlan walked passed her, crouched down and pulled one of their key cards.

The alarm resonated and security lights came on, blinking red at the end of each hallway. This meant that lockdown was in effect. They came to a jog and Gwen opened the staircase door instead of calling the elevator.

“First floor must be packed with Partnership goons,” she said, running down the steps, surprised at her own balance and footing. “And our guys, too.”

“Stay behind me,” Quinlan told her before pushing the door open. They could hear gunshots and shouting. “And mind your aim.”

He opened the door just enough to see, and aimed his weapons to clear around any personnel wearing the Partnership logo. Gwen heard the cries and screams merely covered by the noise of the firefight, she also smelled the blood spilling everywhere.

Once the door was fully open she followed Quinlan with her pistol out, trying to spot any moving bodies on the ground. There was someone still cowering behind the entrance desk and Lar was already there with his Scorpion up. He and Vaun were not using their masks. Lar grabbed someone by the collar, it was Hughes, the director. Gwen recognized the tall man with tan skin, he looked well and unwounded. He was shoved against a pillar. Vaun approached him with a rattle of his stinger.

“Frank from Accounting,” he read on the badge. “How much do you think your life is worth?”

Gwen couldn’t believe what she was assuming and hoped this wasn’t going to waste their time. Hughes’ trembling face searched the crowd of assaillants, scared to even speak. The picture of Frank only remotely resembled him. He was motivated to answer when Lar cocked a round into the chamber of his rifle.

“Uh-hh uh… Whatever you need, s-sir. Please…! Don’t kill anyone else.”

“He's not an accountant,” Gwen interfered. “He's the director, Michael Hughes.”

Vaun straightened up and rumbled satisfyingly. “I’m keeping this one.”

Hughes, terrified and yet staring madly at her, was secured and bound against the pillar, mouth taped while they proceeded to the next stage. Jessica was ready with her two teams of rescuers to assist the patients in the lab and the ones in the maternity clinic. 

Gwen led them into the elevator and used the stolen key card to access the secured floors. Duz, Lar, Lex and Vaun stayed back to guard the main entrances. If the Partnership had sounded the alarm they could call in backup from their headquarters. All they had to do was to follow the trail of bodies from the logistics entrance. 

They needed to be out of there within twenty minutes. Setting her mind on that timing, Gwen centered herself, emptying her mind as the elevator stopped. 

Holding out her gun as she got out of the shaft, she headed straight for the staff office. 

She shot the two guards that came out aiming their tasers at her. Blood sprayed behind them as she had only hit their chest and neck. She proceeded to the director’s office, the main control room to unlock the cell doors that secluded all patients during a lockdown. She pushed away the chair where Hughes usually sat, and leaned forward to use the computer. 

Jessica and her team hurried to grab the women in panic, getting them to find their way out. Fifteen patients, all under thirty-five, healthy, and she was ready to bet they smelled irresistible to Gwen now that she was strigoi. She dared not go near anyone who was B-positive. 

Quinlan found her in the office, his sword in hand, the silver blade covered in red blood. He watched the evacuation from the observation bay and turned back to her.

“We won’t have time to save the ones trapped on the fifth floor.”

Gwen couldn’t use the camera surveillance to watch what was going on there. They had to make it fast to their next objective.

“Then we send Jessica to the bus while you and I take care of the draining floor.”

His chest rattled with approval as he moved past her and she quickly followed, pressing the call button on her walkie.

“Begin the extraction,” she told Vaun, “Quinlan and I are headed to the fifth.”

She aimed her gun at a group of strigoi coming out of the elevator, she shot their knees and they stumbled, blocking the way for more reinforcements. Quinlan swung his sword and chopped off a few heads, and stabbed another, cutting limbs clean. The elevator floor was no longer clean, however.

“ _ We’re out of here in ten minutes,” _ warned Vaun. 

Taking the staircase again, they met the raised rifles of two men in black armor and red hoods. Gwen lowered her gun and Quinlan got through the door, leading them all upstairs. 

Duz was last and he nodded at her, looking over the ammo she had left in her pouches.

“I’m good,” she said and she climbed the steps. 

They kept quiet until they snuck onto the draining floor, getting a glimpse of the rows of cages, the strigoi workers in their plastic robes droning away at their job. 

Gwen held her breath as time seemed to stop. The strong smell of ammonia first hit her. She saw the metal hooks cycling the bodies, all nude, inanimate as if on drugs, jammed into a cage full of thick tubes and needles. Their blood, their life was sucked out of them in those torture contraptions. They were hauled out of that machine devoid of color, limp and discarded into a large container.

She caught sight of Lex lowering the hood over his head, and aimed the Scorpion rifle at the line of strigoi.

They were spotted. The workers screeched at them and sprung to attack. Gwen began shooting as well as Duz and Lex. Quinlan advanced with his sword. He battled with a taller strigoi that fought him off, dodged the strikes and tried to punch him. Gwen shot down a slaver and moved to open one of the cages where a skinny woman with her hair shorn off was crying in panic. Duz shot down the incoming backup from the end of the line, providing cover while Gwen reached down with an open hand.

“Come on!” she reassuringly said. 

The terrified woman bit her lips and gathered her courage to grab her hand and be pulled out of the small cage. Gwen motioned towards the back corner of the room, behind empty crates.

“Stay low, we’re getting you all out of here.”

“Th- Thank you!” 

Gwen unlocked the other cages behind Duz, the humans all crawled out without hesitation, having seen the first of them being rescued. Six of them all ran out for safety, except one young man who went a different direction.

He was met with a gray stinger to the neck and his life drained out of him with heavy gulps. A strigoi of strong build had emerged, wearing padded skin-tight clothes. Gwen raised her gun to shoot the back of its head but it clicked at the pull of the trigger. Out of ammo. 

She hissed a curse and hurriedly dropped her gun to unsheath her sword. In one swift move she struck the creature from behind, cutting a gashing wound along its spine. It made a deafening shriek as it let go of the last captive. The loose stringer flailed and was directed towards her. Gwen clenched her jaw and threw herself to the ground, rolling and striking at its ankles. She saw it lose balance and fall forward, bleeding white and spilling worms over her and she pushed with all of her strength to free herself. The strigoi smelled of rot and blood. 

She cursed at herself. _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

She grabbed her curved dagger and slashed at its neck, paying no mind to the mess she was making on her uniform. She was eager to cut the stinger out of its throat, with whatever means possible.

Then she felt hands pulling her armpits and she was heaved up to her feet and turned around. In a blur, she recognized Duz and his grunting voice.

“Are you hurt?”

Gloved fingers brushed her face and neck, quickly ridding her of worms. 

“I’m fine,” she said, feeling no cuts on her. “None of them got to me.”

His stinger groaned as he held her vest, and Lex called for him to move out. There was no time to waste, and she looked over her shoulder at the floor near the dead strigoi: her gun and her sword were there. Gwen was made to stay close to him, his grip never relenting from her until they were down the stairs with the five rescues. Quinlan closed the march and blocked the door by denting it in its frame with a strong kick. 

Once at the basement they escorted them towards the parking garage. Gwen spotted the explosives strapped to supporting columns to cause structural damage to the building. They arrived at the logistics department, walking over corpses of humans and strigoi alike. She was relieved to find no Sun Hunter among the casualties. Vaun and Lar were there with the vehicles’ engines running, filling the air with gasoline fumes. 

The rescued victims were settled in the van yet more stragglers arrived with some of the human resistants. Prisoners wearing nothing but a medical gown and walking looked like a challenge when they were helped towards the trucks. 

Vaun stood impatiently near the van as he watched the pitiful display of an evacuation. He crossed his arms, making a show of the detonator he held in his right hand. 

“The building is clear for dispatch,” Quinlan told him, moving his albino eyes towards Gwen. “We found mongrels.”

“I'm not surprised,” Vaun commented, then turned around to check on the evacuation trucks. 

Lar strode across the parking lot, Scorpion held at his side as he placed a gloved hand over his right ear. He blinked slowly and brought his attention towards the locked entrance gates. 

A very loud bang shook the ground and deafened them. Gwen covered her ears and once the dust settled she heard the shrieks of fury coming from the exit. 

A horde of strigoi had just been decimated by a bomb. The gate was open but the floor was littered with corpses. 

Ears were running and she thought she heard someone mumbling, then a clear, reassuring voice spoke in her head. 

_ Get in the car with Vaun.  _

Duz did not wait for her consent. He pushed her into the passenger seat of the van while Vaun sat at the wheel. The rescue trucks started as well but Gwen only cared to see where her friends were. Peering through the cloud of dust she saw the flashes of gunfire as Quinlan and Duz were shooting the surviving reinforcement, providing cover fire for Lex who was pulling away bodies from the exit. Lar made hand motions to direct the trucks driven by the resistance. 

The first evacuation truck roared as it drove out of the gate. The second followed closely and slowed to pick up Quinlan on the way out. Hanging by the door frame, he pointed his Uzi at Partnership armed forces, suppressing their attack on the vehicles. 

Vaun slammed the accelerator, knocking Gwen into her seat as the van blasted through the exit. His window rolled down and he grabbed his pistol to shoot at the guard standing next to the checkpoint. He stopped the van after running over the broken gate. 

She heard the back doors sliding open and turned to see Lar, Duz and Lex climbing in. Vaun then pulled out of the compound, turning the wheel with his gun still in hand. He dropped it on her lap then handed over the detonator, not leaving the windshield from his sight. 

“It's all yours.”

They had moved a block away from her workplace. Gwen looked at the blinking red light on the black device. The switch was already flipped on active mode. 

She had a thought for the remaining lives still stuck in the building, the many workers hiding inside. She pressed the red button. 

The explosion was loud and sent tremors down the streets and she felt it inside the van. There was a big ball of smoke and fire in the rear view, where the draining facility used to be. The top of the building collapsed, its roof lowered slowly then fell apart.

_ Bring us the women.  _

Her skin chilled and her spine froze in terror. That voice sounded like a collective, but not. It was authority, fatherly and… deadly. She looked to her left and Vaun had stilled and was slowing down the vehicle. 

“Was that…?”

The Ancients. She hadn't dared finish her question and in her heart she knew the answer. Gwen held onto the door handle and twisted herself to look to the back of the van. They were eyeing each other with dread. Duz slung his rifle to his back and moved towards her. Lex had no idea what had happened and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Are we bringing them in?” she hopelessly asked. 

She knew those women by name. She had endured passively while they cried and screamed as their newborns were taken from their open wombs. She remembered her panic attack once as she'd locked herself in a bathroom stall. 

Duz laid a hand over her shoulder, lightly pressing as he sat right behind her. 

His eyes stopped on Vaun. 

Their leader was grim and solemn in his expression as he resumed driving at a normal speed. They were taking a detour. 

“Change of plans?” Lex asked. 

Gwen stopped scrutinizing Vaun and watched the scenery changing. It was dark, but she could see the faint bloodbeats of human life secluded in apartment buildings. She could clearly read the road signs too. 

Her breath escaped her when she recognized her neighborhood. Dark, quiet. The street lamps still worked and there wasn't even a vehicle wreckage in sight. All of the houses were empty. 

Vaun gave her a short glance and she had expected him to scowl or remain stern. His eyes were down and he blinked slowly before parking the van on the roadside. 

Her house was right outside. Blinds drawn, front and garage doors barricaded. 

“What are we doing?” she asked, clenching her fists in her lap. 

“Get out, all of you.” Vaun turned to look over his shoulder. “Secure the humans in the shelter. I will deal with the Ancients.”

Lar stood as straight as possible inside the vehicle and grabbed the back of Vaun’s seat. He muttered anxiously at him, echoed by the low growl of his stinger. 

“You heard their order: they want the B-positives. You know how valuable they are.”

Vaun kept his eyes on Gwen and she swallowed to relax her dry throat. 

“They are,” he told Lar. “That's why they will be safe in the shelter. No one will get to them. Not the Partnership, nor the Ancients.”

Lar backed away and hardened his expression. “So this is treason.”

“It's the survival of their species. Now,  _ get out.” _

The rattle coming from Vaun’s chest was the signal they needed to obey immediately. As soon as the door slid shut he started down the street in a roar, leaving three strigoi and a human Sun Hunter on the sidewalk. Vaun turned left at the crossroads, screeching the tires.

Gwen bit her teeth so hard her jaws hurt. Lex turned to look at her with confusion and she was already working on getting her front door open. Her mind ached to consider how Vaun would work out this command, how he would be able to negotiate. But she had heard their voice for the first time, and they didn't sound like they were used to discussing anything. 

“How will we get back to the shelter?” Duz asked, helping her pull off wood planks from the door frame. 

“I have a car,” she hopefully said. “Fingers crossed it still runs after sitting for a year.”

She heard knocking and wood being torn off from the garage door as Lex and Lar helped. 

Once inside she thought that time had reversed, that she had simply gone away on a strange vacation and returned home. 

She wished to have thanked Vaun before seeing him leave. She tried the switches and lights came on in the entrance. There was a thin layer of dust everywhere, the floor, the curtains, the coats hanging by the door. Walking around the house she found that everything had stayed where she had left them, that day when she and Lex had gone to assist their coworkers, not knowing they had turned. 

And from that point on she had stayed with her parents until the end.  _ Their _ end. Her life had only been chaos ever since. 

But she was home and Duz joined her in the living room. She had met her life goals here: buying a house and a nice car, spending her time decorating and tending to a few plants in her small backyard. 

And now the one who finally shared her life was here. 

“We have to go,” he quietly reminded her. “Lar found your car keys.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, she strode past her significant other and slammed open the door to the garage. 

Albeit dusty, the white Toyota was there, and its electric charger was still plugged in, something she had completely forgotten. Combat boots stepped heavily behind her and she turned to see if Lar had her keys. 

“Electric?” he noticed. 

“It's a plug-in hybrid,” she told him. “My keys, please.”

Lex inspected the vehicle and nodded approvingly. He was smirking with that typical male admiration for cars and he crouched near the charger. 

“How far does it run on electricity alone?”

“About fifteen miles, unless I go very slow then, thirty.”

Having retrieved her keys, Gwen unplugged the cord from the sockets in the wall and the car and Lex helped wrap the cables to pack it in the trunk. She pressed the unlock button on the key fob and the blinkers came to life. With a pinch to her chest she opened the door, sat behind the wheel and smelled the stale perfume of floor mats. Squinting with anguish she pressed the ignition button. 

All systems came on and the on-board computer indicated a full charge on the battery. Good. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmured desperately, “let's see what you can do.”

With the speed lever still on park she pushed her boot on the accelerator and it started the gas engine without a hiccup. She fell into her seat, sighing with relief. The tank was full, too. 

Lar looked down at the dashboard through her open door. 

“All it takes is a power supply cable?”

“I guess the electric grid never stopped working, so the charger allowed the battery pack to cycle its charge without wasting away.”

Lex pulled up the garage door and Lar gave her an approving nod. 

“Get in,” she told them, strapping herself in. 

Taking interest in the car, Lar sat next to her and she felt a pang of guilt when she assumed it was Duz. After all they dressed the same, had the same skin tone and bald heads. 

The breaks creaked a little when she took the car out the driveway. Fog began to cover all of the glass panes and she had to turn on the AC. 

“Damn strigoi heat,” Lex commented from behind her. 

She stretched her tense hands over the steering wheel, getting a feel of the car and her driving skills returning to her after a year and a slight change of physiology. She pushed the pedal further and brought the Prius to a proper cruising speed to save on power. 

“We have to hurry back to base,” she heard Lar say next to her when she was distracted by the touchscreen navigation: GPS signal was lost. He continued when he met her gaze. “I have limited faith in Vaun’s ability to reason with the Ancients.”

“Agreed,” she nodded. “With all due respect.”

“How fast is this car?” he then asked. 

“I don't know, I never drove it in a hurry.”

They passed a deserted crossroad and she merged into the main road. All the lights were red. Having three adults in the car with her was also out of the ordinary in her experience. 

“Now is probably the time to find out,” Lar said to her. 

She checked her rear and saw low beams lighting the street behind. A large black truck appeared.

“Lights off,” told Lar. “Go, now.”

It was a Partnership patrol. Gwen pushed the pedal and the Prius sent itself whizzing down the road, tires barely catching on the humid asphalt. The gasoline engine pushed for the acceleration and the electric motor did its best to assist in keeping the car on the ground as she swerved and made use of the breaks to take a sharp few turns. 

Lar turned to look behind them, holding onto the ceiling handle. 

“Think we lost them?” she asked, turning the wheel to take to the darkness of back alleys. 

“You just had to pick a white car, didn't you?” Lex shot back at her, lowering his voice. 

“It wasn't meant for sports driving,” she apologized. 

“No, by all means,” Lar sighed. “Let me drive. I know the way back to base, and I need to see what can be done about this lack of speed.”

“This is my baby we're talking about,” she shamelessly said to him. “You're not going to tear it down and pick it apart, are you?”

Duz and Lex chuckled in the back and Lar simply smirked at her. 

“I won't, but if this is the best it can do we might as well get you a new car.”

Gwen froze in sudden realization of what that entailed. How had she not thought of this before, to simply ask and be provided with what she pleased? Was it really that easy? 

“This opens up a lot of possibilities.”

He stared back at her with kind, patient eyes. “Please, let me take the wheel.”

She opened her door, grumbling. “You'll be thanking me when all your SUVs run out of gas.”

She could tell it wasn't the first time Lar drove a Prius. She wondered if he had owned one himself, or if he was just that good of a driver that he could adapt to anything. She was afraid that lending it to someone else would mess with her record mileage, but with Lar even the seat and mirror positions weren't all that different from hers. 

They silently moved through the city, well within the fifteen miles of electric driving range. He avoided the main roads and Gwen found that she didn't know Brooklyn that well after all. 

“I will drop you off at the shelter,” he said, eyeing their comrades in the back. “And I need one of you with me to see the Ancients.”

There was a moment of silence. Gwen knew that whatever had gone down with Vaun, they should have felt it by now. There was still time. With a level measure of hope, she spoke up. 

“I'll go with you.”

Lex and Duz perked up in their seats. 

“You shouldn't,” Duz predictably said. “I'll go.”

She cringed her molars and kept her stinger from rattling too hard with anxiety. 

“They turned me for a reason. I believe they wanted me to bring in those B-positives after they had a taste of me. It just makes sense that I pay them a visit… Tell them what's what.”

Clamming up after her moderate tantrum, she joined her trembling hands between her knees and looked out the window. They were near the specific lamp post just over the sewage manhole on the sidewalk. Shame gnawed at her conscience for speaking so openly about her blood, but she had an inkling that it was no secret why the Ancient drank her. 

“You both go,” told Lex, clipping off his seat belt and opening the door. “I can handle the humans.”

Gwen looked at him and saw Duz giving him a grateful nod. 

“Thank you,” she said to her friend. “But if they turn on you…”

“I don't think they will,” he added, almost smiling as he left the car. “Quinlan would have said something.”

“Or he already drank them all,” Duz shot back. 

Laughing, Lex shut the door and Lar drove away. Silence and darkness weighed on the ride towards the nest. Gwen focused on staying calm while Duz was leaning forward, touching her arm. Lar found the tunnel entrance and parked the car next to the Chevys. The van was there and Lar unclipped his belt. 

“Let me do the talking,” he warned them. “Unless Vaun already has the situation under control, I will not tolerate any insubordination. Is that clear?”

Gwen nodded twice while Duz emitted a sharp series of clicks. He was still angry. 

When they proceeded towards the dark chamber she picked Vaun’s scent and his presence was far. Gwen tried to remember the last time she had to have an interview with a figure of authority, or anyone that may cause her a similar mental distress. This didn't compare to anything she had lived before. 

They were still sitting on their high chairs, twitching in dreamstate, asleep but not. Lar approached them slowly, head tilted down. 

“Honorable ones,” he started. 

The Ancient in the middle opened its black pearl eyes and set them directly upon her. Lar, somewhat puzzled, stepped aside. She tried to look solemn, respectful, but her back was slouched and her expression was fixed with amazement and rage. It scowled at her. 

_ We made you one of us, made you whole. Yet, you corrupt our own with your humanity. We require human blood. You will be providing it from now on.  _

Her hands no longer shook, she held them relaxed at her sides. Her knees were firmly locked and she craned her neck to look at the Ancient. She hoped it remembered the time when he tasted her precious blood. It would read her mind and know that it would be the last time he'd ever drink anything that sweet again. 

“I will do what must be done,” she uttered coldly. 

All three Ancients were staring at her and she turned around to leave. She could have waited for them to tell her more but her physical presence was not required. Whatever they needed from her, she wasn't going to do it in person. 

Years ago, she had learned that to survive also meant to remove one's self from a harmful situation. To walk away. She had let herself be subjugated by others for the sake of social constructs, ideals and authorities that were not her own. The guilt that ensued was not worth the meager profits she received from being the inferior, the servant. 

When she was gone and back in the garage she allowed herself to breathe and sat in her car. Lar’s scent lingered in her seat, it was a subtle mix of gun metal oil and fallen leaves. She sensed more than she heard Duz coming near and she watched him sit on her right. He waited a few long seconds before speaking. 

“It doesn't matter who brings in the livestock, they will drink anything as long as it's healthy. You don't need to worry about this.”

“They want to prove a point,” she murmured, as if speaking low would go under their radar. “I have to prove my own.”

He shifted and leaned an elbow on the dash. “What point?”

Gwen blinked and looked up at the roof of the garage before avoiding his gaze. 

“It's something I have to do by myself, to preserve the peace and establish boundaries at the same time.”

She finally set her eyes on him and he seemed to listen to her with understanding. Gwen continued. 

“We have the director, Hughes. He knows the next step for the Partnership, what containment measures will be taken. My guess is that they're coming for us. For  _ them.” _ She moved her chin towards the window. “It doesn't matter how safe they feel down there. They're getting sloppy. I mean… look at me.”

Duz closed a fist and rubbed his gloved fingers together in deep thought. His eyes followed her mention towards the darkness of the hallway. 

“You're suggesting we interrogate Hughes to prevent an attack?”

Hesitating, she watched him crease his brow over his straight nose and his eyes blinked as he tried reading her own face. Biting her lower lip, she resisted confiding her feelings. Now was the time for action. 

“I really have to do this myself, Elliot. For our sake.”

“You can't trust me then,” he bitterly understood. 

“I don't trust myself,” she said, pressing her lids shut. “They're in my head  _ and _ in yours. Please, don't make me spell it out.”

His sigh made her heart tighten and she felt her face twitching with all of the contained stress from that night in the draining facility. She lowered her head to rest against the steering wheel as she repressed a sob. 

Having to share a hivemind was one thing, but to have one's mind and mental workings invaded by strange, cruel beings was completely different. All she knew and allowed herself to know was that she needed to protect him, and Vaun, and Lar. She needed them to know everything was going to be alright. Fake it ‘til you make it, she told herself. Perhaps that was what Vaun was doing. 

Perhaps none of them could truly control anything for as long as the Ancients lived. Such had been the case with the Master. Now that he was gone it should have been easy to take down the Partnership, they had had months to prepare and execute their plans. Why wait for her to show up and finally destroy one building? 

What if she had never been collaborating? 

What if they hadn't found any B-positives? 

Unable to stop her trail of thought, she felt the compulsion to leave, find the relative privacy of the shelter again, under thousands of metric tons of dirt, lead and steel. Perhaps Lar and Vaun would agree to join them. 

Perhaps she had found what the Ancients feared.

She startled when Duz reached for her hand, sharing his warmth. He wasn't smiling but she felt comfort in his touch. 

“We don't have to do this now.”

No, they didn't. And just like that he had included himself into her plans, and the mere thought of going her own way tore at her heartstrings. It would be morning soon and if that night had taught her anything it was that they were stronger together. 

“I know,” she whispered, turning in her seat to face him. “What would you like to do then?”

Sitting back, he gave her a sly look and she didn't fail to notice the light squeeze of his fingers. 

“I'm ready to be  _ corrupted,” _ he murmured to her. 

She couldn't retain a chuckle as he leaned so she could kiss him, stingers purring and rattling gently as she felt herself calm and he let down his guard. They were far from safe, in this simple garage inside a tunnel, but their hearts and minds were now their own. 


	13. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After attacking the Partnership the Sun Hunters must plan for their next move.
> 
> Gwen surprises Duz with a new outlook on their relationship. 
> 
> An old friend is brought back from the shadows seeking the help of the Ancients.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content.

Chapter 13: Change

 

The man sat tied to the chair with his hands and feet bound by coarse rope, his head covered in the black canvas bag the Sun Hunters kept to transport prisoners back to the Ancients.

This was not going to be a civil conversation.

Arms crossed over his tactical breast plate, Duz stared at the director of the draining and breeding facility. His name was Michael Hughes, Gwen had said when they captured him and he was pretending to be someone else. Now he reeked of fear, mixed perspiration and bad cologne. His suit was torn at the sleeves and he was missing a shoe from being dragged all the way from the garage to the detaining cells.

He muffled something under the bag but they had cloth around his face and mouth. Duz had heard him whining and shouting when taken out of the van and that had gotten on Vaun’s nerves.

Vaun pulled off the bag and revealed the man’s sweaty face. His crazed eyes moved towards each of the three people staring down at him. His mouth was freed and he immediately started babbling.

“You guys are in so much trouble! I--”

His face contorted as he was suddenly punched, cracking teeth and spilling blood on the floor.

Grunting as he flexed his knuckles, Vaun stepped back. Hughes caught his breath. It looked like it wasn’t the first time he was being tied and beaten up.

“You will speak when spoken to,” Vaun growled at him.

Duz held the wallet he’d taken from Hughes’ jacket and pulled out a glossy picture of a happy family of four at a picnic near a lake. Hughes shook his head in fear.

“People like you need incentive to wake up in the morning,” Duz said, and showed him the photograph. “I bet they're wondering why you're not home yet.”

Hughes turned away, shutting his wet eyes tight. Duz looked back at the picture and furrowed his hairless brow.

“I know what's going on,” Hughes said under his breath. “You're terrorists… You want chaos and war again.”

“Shut up,” hissed Gwen as she took a step between Duz and Vaun. She pointed a gloved finger at him, black eyes burning with red. “You're not any more human than the strigoi dogs you use to round up your B-positives. There are hundreds like you, selling their soul and draining entire cities for a piece of reward.”

Hughes squinted and tried to read her face and grinned to show his pearly white teeth, shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Look at you… A puny little security guard turned into a vigilante.” He snarled and turned his head towards Vaun, then Duz. “Which one of you bit her? Did she even put up a fight? Or was she the one to try to get a bite out of-”

This time Gwen was faster as Duz was working up his rage, she was the one throwing her fists at him, breaking bone and cartilage, splattering blood over his shirt. Duz watched with cold distance an angry creature dealing her own justice on a rotten excuse of a man. The repeated punches succeeded in shutting him up. When she stepped back, out of breath, she had blood all over her face and combat uniform.

She used her sleeve to wipe her face and smeared crimson blotches on her pale skin, her stinger growling and rumbling with hunger. Duz had smelled the blood mixed with stress-induced bodily fluids in the draining floor. He had seen the misery and desperation in the eyes of the people trapped in cages, to be hung to meat hooks like cattle.

He thought his world had ended when a rabid strigoi had fallen on top of her, about to harm her while she was unable to defend herself. Nothing else around him mattered, only saving the one he loved.

Duz kept his breath steady and watched Vaun produce his black tactical knife and leaned forward, supporting himself on his knees.

“When your bosses figure out where you've been taken they won't hesitate to use your family. One more day without news and you'll be pinned as a traitor. A terrorist, if you will. After all, you stole someone's ID and fled the building before it blew up.”

“P-please,” cried Hughes, “don't kill me… I only followed orders to keep my family safe.”

“Yeah…” Vaun played with the tip of the blade against his thumb. “We all got a job to do.”

Panic seemed to take ahold of Hughes as he became agitated in the chair.

“My family, my kids! They need protection… If you can bring them here I will cooperate, I swear! Please…”

His glassy eyes danced from Vaun to Gwen, and then Duz who still had the photograph in his hand.

“You're not in a position to make demands,” he told him menacingly.

Gwen seemed to have recovered her calm. “We don't need his cooperation, we just need to track down his wife and children since the Partnership will come after them next.”

“Thank you,” Hughes sighed, his red swollen face unable to express anything other than pain. “They're in Connecticut, Laurel reservoir, High Ridge road…”

Vaun grunted skeptically. “You're a long way from home, Director. Do you even care about them?”

“I do care! A lot. That's why I sent them far from here.”

“Right,” sarcastically said Gwen. “Everyone knows you have another family here in Brooklyn, have everyone stay long hours while you left early to go to dinner with your ‘wife’. So why send us all the way to Connecticut?”

Vaun’s annoyed rumble turned into a growl as he moved around Hughes, grabbing his fingers, making the man scream with fright.

“Okay, stop! Please, stop! You're right! I have two families but… if I had to choose one I'd rather save my first. I'm sorry it's so far away, okay? But that won't stop the Partnership.” He caught his breath, teeth clenched. “They'll stop at nothing to get me to shut up.”

Visibly tired, Vaun let out a grunting sigh and stretched his back.

“But you see, we're the ones who have you now. Whatever your family says to them, it would be too late. You can either work with us and see your family again, or we simply hand you over to them - dead - and no one wins.”

Built up stress and fear made Hughes pant and fume from his seat. Duz stared down at him and Vaun gave him a quick nod. His hand was on his sidearm as soon as he got the signal. Hughes parted his eyelids and tried to back up and made his chair slide on the concrete floor. Duz smelled the acrid perspiration coming from him as he pointed the gun at his head.

“You-you could just drink me? Maybe turn me into one of you guys, like you did her? You're immortal now, right?”

“If you're so eager to lose your humanity,” Vaun interfered and pointed his knife at his crotch, “then you don't mind losing some of your fleshy bits?”

His thighs squeezed tightly with fear as he begged silently this time, obvious in taking the threat seriously.

Vaun leaned forward, his face very close as he muttered.

“We'll give you a last chance to ask forgiveness to your family, and say your goodbyes.”

When Hughes was left in detainment Duz kept checking on Gwen, hearing her shallow, low breaths as she remained mostly silent. Vaun was tense but for reasons different than having kidnapped the director of the blown up facility.

“They won't allow him to stay alive more than two days,” he told them both in the briefing room. “If we're going to move on the Hughes family we have to do it quick.”

“We could just as well let him run back to his bosses, put a tracking chip in him.”

They looked down at Gwen who just stood there with her arms crossed and looking like she was already moving on to other concerns. Vaun raised a side of his mouth and left eyelid with less than unease.

“Having him here is already jeopardizing our location. We need an endgame… if we're going to take on the head of the Partnership we have to go all out.”

They had Quinlan, the Brooklyn resistance, weapon cartels across the Atlantic. But they were one group in one city, and such a pattern couldn't replicate throughout the entire country unless they exposed themselves.

No more vendettas. No more emotional bouts of rage and pain. Duz couldn't see an outcome that wasn't dramatic for all of them. They needed to think bigger than kidnappings.

“Vaun,” began Duz, “let me work the military angle with Quinlan. If we got the outlaws to join us once, we can get the patriots on our side. We need the soldiers.”

He and Vaun had only spoken once of that possibility and hadn't considered it seriously. Vaun appeared to work the odds and ends in his mind as he studied his face, his resolve.

Duz withstood the scrutiny. In his idle time he had planned out a likely route to probable resistance points in American military bases but that required long distance travel, and all the risks that it entailed. Quinlan had emitted his opinion in terms of strategic planning and geopolitical interests for the Partnership; the farther the deployment, the more homesick and patriotic the soldier.

“I'll see that you have your hands free,” Vaun finally said. “Right now we have to lay low and keep our humans safe.”

“What about our other problem?” Gwen asked. “How long can we hide from the Ancients before getting pinned as traitors?”

Vaun tilted his head to one side as he gave a quick thought to the question.

“Supposing they don't already know what we're scheming behind their backs, they're letting things play themselves out.”

He propped his hands to his hips and seemed to stretch the tension out of his neck. Duz understood the urge to ease the nagging itch he also felt in the back of his head.

“Meaning that whatever we do,” deduced Gwen, “it wouldn't change anything? They'll still get what they want?”

Vaun tilted his mouth down and avoided her gaze.

“It may seem like a hapless existence, child, but in the end conspiring against one's leaders is a great incentive for change. They've allowed us free reign for some time now. It seems like a natural development that we secede from them in order to rebuild the order.”

Visibly unconvinced, Gwen shifted her stance to look at Vaun with a tired expression.

“Are they ever openly honest with us?”

“We all work towards preserving balance, and whatever that requires of the Ancients, short of them dying, they'll adapt.”

Duz agreed with stoic silence though he couldn't stop his mind from suspecting that the only reason Vaun seemed so trusting now was because something else was already in play.

“We're capable of governing ourselves to some extent,” Duz said if only to appease Gwen's concerns. “For the sake of survival we can function without the Ancients, though in the end we need their knowledge and wisdom.”

Vaun and Lar were not the only sentient servants of the Ancients. All strigoi Sun Hunters were susceptible for a promotion. There were humans, too. Collaborators of a different kind who had no business with what was going on in New York.

“That, and the fact that they're the only ones who can create more of us,” Gwen somberly added.

Duz blinked once, remembering that night in the Ancients’ chamber, and met her jaded expression. There was so much he wanted to say to ease her anguish, to hold her and promise her everything would be fine. If he was honest with himself he'd stop from having any sort of human interaction as long as the Ancients lived. A thought that, in his current state, would give enough reason for them to have him executed.

“You raise a good point,” Vaun told her. “You should go ahead and recruit some soldiers, find suitable candidates to grow our ranks. I think the Ancients would appreciate that more than a B-positive cocktail party.”

Duz sharply nodded. “I want to check on Lex first. If the resistance is still loyal to us it would play in our favor to find more.”

Vaun held his belt and casually rumbled in his chest. “Tell him to join me to investigate the Hughes family. He and I have some catching up to do.”

Energized with purpose and new plans to be made, he followed Gwen to replace their stained clothes. Going back to the shelter meant coming in contact with humans, smelling their blood, becoming a new strigoi threat to those who had just been rescued from their plight. It was her idea to appear as non-threatening as possible. They used the livestock to feed themselves off of elderly people picked up from the streets, and ended their preparations in the washroom.

He hadn't planned on spending time there but seeing her out of her uniform, standing under the hot water rendered him completely defenseless. After barely a week as a strigoi she still retained a lot of her human demeanor and traits. She hurriedly washed her face, soaping up in the shower while he contemplated the way the lather slid down her spine and in the small of her back to dissolve where her buttocks parted. Her hands scrubbed and ran along her grayish white skin, ridding all trace smell of blood and ammonia.

She froze and turned her head towards him with visible unease, and his gut turned to ice as he caught himself staring.

“I'm sorry,” he quickly murmured, looking down. “I- please don't take it the wrong way…”

“Just join me,” she told him breathily as she came out to pull him by the hand.

He let go of his towel and agreed to share the small space under the shower head even though there were plenty other unused ones in the communal shower room. Smiling, Gwen picked up the shower gel bottle and worked up the foam in her hands before proceeding to clean him. Strigoi did not sweat or produce strong body odors, only during the ammonia discharge after they drank. But grime and blood still clung to them over time, they needed to wash now and then.

So he let her. Her closeness invited him, they kissed. He wrapped her warm, slick form in his arms, relishing her smaller frame within his strong and tall stature. She smelled like him but also retained a very feminine aroma. Her sighs of want encouraged him to explore her the way she used her hands on him, nipping at his skin where muscles protruded and where he was the most sensitive. Her breasts and hardened nipples brushed past arms, spurring forbidden thoughts. In return he lowered his hand town to her belly, stopping at her navel and she glared up at him, water making her eyelids flutter.

“I'm still intact, down there,” she whispered, clinging to his arms.

He read her complex gaze, eyes beautifully blackened with makeup that didn't want to wash away despite the warm water. He was puzzled and slightly alarmed by what she had said. She laid her head against his chest, seeking his body for comfort, all the while leading his hand further down between her thighs. Duz passively touched her delicate flesh, letting her fingers show him where they wanted him.

Gwen whimpered a moan which set off his senses into arousal. He was feeling her still female attributes against the bud of his fingers, a subtle scent of a woman's intimacy reached his nostrils. Her hips rolled and she pressed up on his palm. He let out a groan in surprise. She was squeezing his arm for support, or as if she never wanted to let him go.

“Gwen,” he said, troubled by the suddenness in all of this. Worried about the way she held herself against him. “You’re still changing. In a few days we'll be the same.”

Her own hand still held him flush against her, inciting movement. The structure and shape of her was strigoi but what he felt in her nethers was essentially what remained of her labia, and a vestigial birthing canal moistened by her womanly fluids. She responded to him, down there, sending chills through his body as he took in a deep breath. He stopped and pulled away his hand, jaw clenched as pain overwhelmed his mind.

“Please…” she begged.

Duz brought her face up to look at him, concern turned to fear.

“I can't give you what you want,” he apologized. “This won't last… You won't feel this way again.”

Her fingers dug into his back and her eyes, black, shiny, would not relent.

“I want to feel like a woman,” she bitterly asked, “just this once in my life.”

How could he say no to her when all he could see, feel and touch was her? How could he deny her when she did nothing but love him, and honored him with that request? Taking a shaky breath, feeling his legs begin to falter he gave her a nod and tried to smile. She replied with an urgent kiss, shutting out his doubts.

Anticipation took over the both of them and he so wished they were in the privacy of her room. He wished they had at least moved to a closed stall, despite the smells and dubious stains there. No, they remained under the shower, completely open and exposed.

He wished she had at least tried to be silent when he raised her against the tiled wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. He closed his mouth against hers and finished what she had started with him. The excitement, the hurry and eagerness of it all was just alien to him and he couldn't remember the first time he had made love, as a man, not even to his past wife even though they'd had children together. It was a different time for a different man, in a different world.

She welcomed him with a moan as he entered, two fingers joined to simulate what he thought would satisfy her need. His own arousal translated into an urge to press against her, keep her stuck against the cold wall as she shivered and shook in his grasp. Biting her lower lip, she squeezed him, down there, and brought up a hand to hold her left breast.

Oh, how could he ever cease to love her?

Duz lowered to give her the deepest kiss he had ever given, making sure she remembered how his tongue could dance with her own. Trying to mimic the movement with his two digits inside her womanhood. Her beastly groan of pleasure sent his mind into a frenzy. He wanted more, to make her writhe and scream and never want to stop.

Soon she was rocking her body against him, panting, grunting with effort, insatiable in her hunger for what would be the only way for them to have sex… until she would change again. But Duz did not linger on that thought. He found that he could increase the pressure she so desperately wanted and use most of his fingers to stimulate her very sensitive bits. It was a cloaca, all of them had it, but hers was different. Improved in a way that could only be temporary.

She sucked in air through her stinger, digging her nails in his back at the new way he was touching her.

“I love you,” she cried weakly into his ear.

“Shh.”

He ran a hand softly behind her back, easing the pain of the wall against it, feeling the pattern of tiles imprinted on her skin. She could only cling to his neck and support herself with her legs around him to remain upright, even though he kept making her tremble like a leaf, digging deeper in her slippery organ. He was amazed at how responsive she was to his touch, how well she could control the muscles around an atrophying region.

He laid her down on the counter table, next to the sink and their reflection in the mirror almost caught him aback. The sight was unexpected, something he'd never witnessed among other strigoi, even among humans if both were bald and sickly pale. The heat they produced had evaporated all the water, leaving them dry and clean. His muscular build dwarfed her by contrast and he realized with excited interest how trusting she was of him, to allow him literally inside of her when his whole body was tuned for blunt force and delivering death.

She was pleasure, pain and lust incarnate, head thrown back, breasts shaking and toes cramping as he pulled out and back in again. 

What were they doing? He asked himself that question yet smiled and revealed his fangs to her with hungry eyes. He was drunk from the smell of her, the sounds coming out of her, and from seeing her so docile and willing.

Her chest heaved, she covered her mouth and whimpered. Her erratic contractions faded, she hesitantly pushed his arm away as she let out a desperate moan. Her thighs trembled and he slowly receded and relinquished from her. He couldn’t accept that it was over. Prolonging the contact, he caressed her with his wet palm while she clenched under his fingers, recovering from climax. Her legs had gone limp and she sat up with effort as she tried to breathe in, pulling him down to her and she nibbled small kisses on his lips, smiling.

“Thank you.”

Was that it? Searching her satisfied gaze, he wondered if she was being serious, or if she was genuinely grateful for what he had done. He did feel the same, though he couldn’t word it. She belonged with him, she had to.

“You’ll always be my woman,” he murmured to her, letting their nose tips touch.

No matter what shape or form, whatever they had to face in this world, even if they were apart he knew she would be his. He had known this since the beginning.

He watched her process the thought, searching his face, the corner of her lips tilting upward. She grinned, running a hand on his neck and chest, careful as she brushed over the sensitive flaps along his stinger.

“And you’ll always be my man.”

 

On a normal day, it was difficult to tell the time when living underground. But circumstances were unusual, to say the least, and Duz had lost track a few hours ago, if not an entire day. For the first time in many years he wasn’t sure.

He had actually slept and he was sure of that from the numb sensation in his head and seeing the cotton linens he was lying in, by himself. The bed smelled of her, that subtle yet overwhelmingly sweet female scent he was only getting used to. Her aroma filled his mouth when he took in a breath and remembered. The sensation of his lips against hers - her other lips - his tongue reaching and tasting, her strong thighs threatening to snap his neck if he wasn’t cautious.

He suspected she was washing again, or perhaps busying herself in the storage room for supplies. He reached up to grab the phone he knew she left on the shelf, reading the time. It was ten in the morning. Swiping the lock screen away, he idly tapped the touchscreen and found himself browsing the pictures taken with the device.

The brown dog sitting in the snow when they were in the park with Brenda. A pair of boots he identified as Quinlan’s, because of the silver spurs attached to them. The snowy hill in Marine Park. Quinlan and himself, while they were chatting, looking earnest and serious, not knowing that she was aiming at them with her camera. Duz almost didn’t recognize himself, realizing he didn’t look half bad in the dimmed daylight of the nuclear winter. He was focused on their planning for their future plan of operation. Quinlan had raised his hopes.

Quinlan. He had attempted to reach out to him that day, exchanging numbers. They had work to do.

Duz put down the phone. He quickly got out of Gwen’s bed and reached for the first thing he identified as male clothing on a chair, careful not to dress inappropriately with something that belonged to her. He didn’t remember bringing clean clothes before they came to her room so he assumed it was her doing. He found his combat uniform on the desk and her own was stowed in a pile nearby.

He got dressed. It was a brand new pair of dark jeans, a black button up shirt that was slightly larger than his size so he rolled up the sleeves, and a dark gray jacket with fleece lining and hood that felt soft around his neck. He didn’t remember owning anything like this, he wore the Sun Hunter uniform every day, but he understood that she intended for him to change his habits.

They had to appear inconspicuous, if not amicable to the humans. He wore his belt and attached the holster to his side and dagger to the other. Looking human didn't mean becoming harmless. He took Lex’s black tactical knife and moved his phone from his vest pouch to the inside of his new jacket.

He searched for her but couldn't pinpoint her scent. Yonn had seen her around the storage room then Lar hadn't met her at all since the day before. He stood in the archive where the other Sun Hunter worked, with her phone in hand, trying not to let his face betray his fear.

“She is probably out with Vaun,” Lar told him, climbing down from the ladder against the tall book shelf. “Why don't you send her a message?”

“She left her phone…”

Lar tapped a gloved finger against his own temple.

“A _thought_ message, Duz.”

“We try not to invade each other's mental privacy,” he simply replied. “It doesn't occur to me that she might try to hide anything.”

“Because asking around the entire compound for her is a better show of trust?” Lar shook his head and spoke a knowing smile. “She is no longer human, Duz. Soon enough she won't need to be coddled, she will be a Sun Hunter of her own kind.”

“What are you suggesting?” Duz asked, lowering his brow.

“We all see that she doesn't yet belong here. She is no soldier.”

He had to demand an explanation, something to justify the accusation that Gwen was somehow less than them. When he was about to formulate his question he felt her presence - a quiet signal in the back of his head asking that he would bring his attention towards the garage. Lar shot another smirk at him when he excused himself out.

They came out of the van with three additions to the livestock, staggering males with bags over their heads being taken in while Vaun and Gwen stood behind next to the vehicles. Duz was dumbfounded to see them both returning from a hunt while he had been sleeping, of all things. She seemed happy though Vaun was working his jaw to restrain a growl of disapproval. Duz blew air through his lips and decided not to mind being judged for his appearance.

Gwen, though, had surpassed him in terms of fashion. She wore a loose hooded robe that draped around her body and her neck was apparent down to her breasts. Her pants were not trousers but black leggings that fit tightly around her waist and disappeared into black leather boots with heels. A young gothic witch armed with a sword and pistol.

Her hips swayed when she walked towards him and she circled his neck, chuckling as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I was running so hot this morning I went out for some fresh air,” she calmly muttered. He felt her gloved finger tips tracing the back of his head. “When I came back to give you the clothes I found, Vaun took me on a quick hunt.”

Duz couldn't tear himself from her mesmerising gaze painted with khôl and eyeshadow and his stinger rumbled with interest. He placed a hand around her waist, feeling how snug and form-fitting the tanktop held her body. No armor, no Kevlar or added protection. Just fabric and her devilish charm.

No, he would not approve of this. But his body didn't tell the same.

“Don't worry,” Vaun sarcastically said to him. “I didn't take her out on a date. She insisted on changing your outfits, something about self determination and - what was that again?”

She grinned. “Deceiving low expectations.”

Vaun grumbled a sigh and crossed his arms.

“Your girlfriend decided to become a wildcard, like Quinlan. I hope that's not a joint decision coming from you.”

She took a duffle bag from the van and carried it to her car, unlocking the Prius and opened the trunk which was already loaded with bags.

Duz brought his attention back on Vaun.

“Times are changing.”

“Don't lose sight of our constant,” the older Sun Hunter told him. “We prevail because we stand united. Make sure Lex knows this too.”

“We’re a family,” Duz reminded him, and tried to convince himself nothing would make them grow apart. “Lex needs us more than he cares to admit.”

“Did you know he plans to go to Prague?”

“He mentioned it a couple of times.” He crossed his arms in thought. “If we were to move our business overseas…”

“Finish your job here,” interrupted Vaun. “There’s enough distractions already.”

Duz pressed his lips into a repressed smile, watching Vaun leave into the basement.

He felt bad for him. His mentor had a lot on his mind, not only was he responsible for all of the Sun Hunters, strigoi and human, but he also had to take into account the interpersonal issues, Lex’s past, and two strigoi lovers behaving like complicated adolescents.

Gwen let out a breath, her eyes seeking his attention. Her voice was lively, her stance a lot straighter than usual from wearing those new shoes.

“Are we ready?”

It seemed she was a new person, as if the previous night had changed something. Maybe it was just a phase…

“How are you feeling?”

She blinked at him and pursed her darkened lips. “If I was in pain you would know…”

He tried to quiet his concerns and brushed his thumb along her jawline to stop at her chin. He would have known if she was in any sort of distress. Strigoi healed faster than humans, yet he kept on worrying. Not so long ago she was this insecure, lonely, defenseless human being that he vowed to protect.

He was only starting to think of her without the veil of fear. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his neck, her body pressing softly against his. Her moan brushed away his gloomy thoughts.

“It feels so good to hug you without the combat gear.”

She was so small, so exposed and vulnerable wearing so few layers. It was dangerously irresponsible just being there without any bulletproof protection. Duz squeezed harder and shut his eyelids.

It did feel good.

 

The nuclear shelter was reeking with human odors, blood, perspiration, and sickness. Gwen produced a disgusted sound when the elevator doors parted. Duz had to bite down hard to keep his stinger quiet when the smell of B-positive type hit his nostrils.

They got in, Duz first with the duffle bag full of supplies, and Gwen close behind. The new people had taken every available space to sit and work, right up to the entrance hall turned into a gear storage and maintenance. Resistance members opened wide eyes at them, weapons raised until Duz shot back a murderous glare and they recognized him with bitter relief.

“Where is Lex?” he asked them.

“Armory,” replied a skinny man with a week old beard and a dirty knit hat. “Did you bring medicine?”

“It depends on what you need,” Gwen answered him. “We have to raid a Partnership health center for specific treatments.”

They proceeded further and met the suspecting gazes of the rescued people encamped in the hallways, mattresses set on the floor. Duz guessed that Gwen's room was occupied now.

Some were too sick to move or even notice them walking by, but many tried to hide away in fear, traumatized by their captivity. They had their scalps shorn like those they found in the draining cages. When a few moved away or walked near, he caught the enticing scent of the favored blood type, the one that had trapped these people inside that vampire prison.

They entered the weapon storage room and closed the door behind them.

“Lex? Quinlan?” called Duz.

“Back here,” replied Lex.

Their scent was here, and he tracked them at the far end of the room where the human and the Born were working on filling grenades with silver shavings.

They looked up and both made a double take on them. Quinlan, who had left his heavy coat and weapons somewhere stood in his slim-fitting shirt and vest, looked much less intimidating now. He raised a hairless brow before making an amused smile.

“A sight for sore eyes,” he said, tilting his head to better look at Gwen.

Duz heard him take a deep whiff of air when they approached and he cleared his throat with a click of his stinger. She widened her eyes at him and did something he did not expect, leaning her chin over his shoulder, clinging to his arm.

Lex, who had shed his tactical vest turned his attention on them before nodding sharply.

“No uniform?”

“I thought we could shake things up a little,” Gwen answered with an appeasing smile. “To show people were not just guns and stingers.”

“You should have told me you went shopping, I would’ve given you a list of things we’re missing here.”

His neck was tense, and Duz could hear the slightly elevated heart rate, the veins visible on his temples.

“This shelter just went from a dozen to over fifty people,” Lex continued. “If we don’t find a new place to relocate them the rest of us will get sick with whatever pathogens the Partnership was playing with. Combine that with vitamin deficiencies and cabin fever… you got yourself a pandemic waiting to happen.”

Quinlan stood with his hands clasped in his back, narrowing his pale eyes as he added his opinion.

“When the architect designed this bunker he had healthy, sane people in mind. Evidently, the reality of survival in a crisis is much less convenient.”

“Every operation accounts for minimal losses and sacrifice,” Duz told them, feeling old memories rising to the surface. “Did we guarantee a hundred percent chance of survival when coming here?”

Lex finished screwing the cap over a detonator in its glass canister.

“Of course not.”

“Then let the humans deal with this problem.” He looked at his friend, sensing the resentment in his silence. “The Ancients are letting us expand beyond the state. We’re going to seek out military forces and take down the Partnership itself.”

Lex blinked a few times in disbelief, then eyed Quinlan who held up his head with intrigued curiosity.

“Finally,” said the Born, “they’ve come to their senses. No more recruited inmates.”

But Lex was the ever-skeptical one, the voice of reason beyond faith.

“How do you convince military personnel to betray their hierarchy?”

Duz confronted his blue gaze with stoic determination, planting his feet on the ground as if Lex was the first one he had to rally to his cause.

“We show them the real meaning of patriotism. Remind them why they enlisted, what it means to fight for the innocent.”

Jaws working while he processed the idea, Lex shot a gaze at him, then Quinlan, and finally on Gwen. His steel eyes returned on Duz.

“I’ll go with you, then. Those guys won’t trust just anyone, we need one of them to speak for us. A veteran, a _human_ one who’s been through what they have.”

He used to be human, and he was technically a veteran, and Quinlan had waged war against countless enemies while in the Roman Empire. Surely it all counted for something but Lex was troubled by more immediate matters.

“There are valuable fighters in the resistance,” suggested Quinlan. “I wouldn't be surprised if some of them have had military training.”

Duz agreed with a nod, then focused back on Lex.

“One other thing. We interrogated the director of the facility, he is going to cooperate as long as we secure his family in Connecticut. Vaun asked you to take care of that with him.”

Lex had a twitchy reaction on one side of his face indicating how much he appreciated the demand, which meant: very little. He packed the silver grenades into tactical pouches.

“At least it'll get me some fresh air.”

“Yeah,” concurred Duz with an equally nonchalant tone. “We could all use a change of scenery. But for now, we have to temper ourselves. The Partnership expects us to be reckless.”

His fellow Sun Hunter clammed up and carried the bag of ordnance up to a shelf for later deployments.

Duz couldn't hear his thoughts, but he met Quinlan's silent scrutiny and his wordless interrogation signaled to him that something wasn't right with Lex.

They helped them sort the rest of the homemade silver ammunition in the armory before distributing the supplies Gwen brought them.

Most of it was over-the-counter medicine, pain relievers, common asthma medication, and feminine hygienic products. There was also a plastic bag full of different colored wigs.

She went across the alleys and knocked at each room to check on the females. Some of them had had their heads shorn and were pleased to be offered prosthetic hair, even for just some time.

Duz followed her out of curiosity, watching from afar, cautious not to interfere when she kindly spoke to the women. An older lady gave her a touch of the hand before starting to cry.

“Did they turn you?”

Turning towards the person who suddenly spoke to him, Duz blinked and tried to recognize the elderly, bearded man. He wore a dark ragged suit and his white hair was reaching his shoulders. He repeated himself more specifically this time.

“Did the Ancients turn you, or did you belong in the Partnership?”

Duz grinned.

“Professor Setrakian, how did you get here?”

The old man grumbled with annoyance, balancing himself on his silver cane.

“You seem surprised.” His voice was even coarser than he remembered. “But not as surprising as the Sun Hunters reappearing after a year of compliance with the enemy. Mister Quinlan brought me here this morning so that we could work together.”

There was another explanation to his presence here and Duz made a mental note to consult with the Born. Setrakian had a fit of cough and nearly fell against the wall if it wasn't for Duz who helped him up, supporting his shoulders.

“I'm glad you’re here, Professor. But you need to rest.”

Setrakian was coughing so much Duz would have believed he was choking himself to death. He smelled like it, too. Alarmed, he looked around for a nurse, someone with medical knowledge for dying people. They still needed the old professor alive to continue the fight.

“What I need,” Setrakian protested with labored breath, “is the white.”

Brow lowered, Duz helped him walk towards the nearest bench in a corner of the hall where there was less passage, but anyone would get curious to eavesdrop on a strigoi talking to a sick old man.

“Only an Ancient like the Master can give the white,” he murmured, hoping Setrakian wasn't hard of hearing. “And mine won't allow you to further prolong your life, they can be obtuse about that.”

Wheezing in his breath, Setrakian seemed to mull over the thought and his glassy eyes wandered among passing people talking amongst themselves.

A young girl with long black hair, perhaps no older than ten, was holding the hand of a pale woman with equally black, long locks of silky hair. A vision from a dark tale of fantasy and magic. Duz felt his body grow hotter and his mouth twitched as he recognized Gwen wearing one of those wigs. Her natural hair was black. She was more beautiful than he remembered her - before.

Setrakian's gravelly voice pulled him out of his reverie.

“In all of my life I never imagined I would witness something quite like this.”

Duz met his tired but curious gaze, and let the man finish his sentence, afraid that any interruption would cause him to forget what he was saying.

“With Mister Quinlan it is understandable that he would retain a part of humanity… But for those like you who are sentient, unlike the German, or other tools of the Master… The Sun Hunters seem to enjoy more freedom. For better or worse, it's a mystery yet to be deciphered.”

“The Ancients chose for us to be free, but loyal to them.”

Looking up, Setrakian stared agape at the ceiling, as if he was trying to hear some distant sound. Duz heard nothing. It was impossible, so deep underground, surrounded by thick layers of concrete and lead.

“We are literally sitting in a sarcophagus like the one we used to trap the Master. No strigoi can sense us in here.” He shifted in his sitting position and glared at him bewildered. “The Ancients have no control over you.”

Duz felt noticed when Gwen looked at him and smiled shyly. He returned her look and kindly nodded before her attention was diverted to the child again and she knelt down to get to her level. The girl was trying to become friends, to tell her survival stories against the _evil strigoi_ at school, and Gwen patiently listened and gratified her with compliments on her courage and bravery.

The child grinned and hugged Gwen, Duz watched and felt a sudden urge of hope, but also felt the sting of bitter regret. They could never have children. It would be unfair to them, to have to endure the cruelty of living hand-in-hand with death, to survive every mortal and never see the sun.

“We live in extraordinary circumstances,” Duz explained to him.

Setrakian let out a sigh. “I don’t believe I learned your name, my strigoi friend.”

“It’s Elliot Van Duzer, Duz for short.” He paused and sensed the weak heart rate and lowered body temperature in the old man. “I will put up a word for you among the Ancients. They may have changed their mind about you.”

Clutching the curved cane handle, Setrakian pouted his dry mouth and sharply nodded to him.

“If it’s any comfort, asking for their generosity is no pleasure of mine. But you have my thanks, Mister Van Duzer.”

Duz smirked at the mention of his last name. It had lost all of its meaning to him, but the Professor’s intentions were good and he had no heart to correct him.

They walked back to the center hall to find Lex and Quinlan standing there with Jessica, Brenda, and other humans who taking part in the decision making process. They were gathered around the operations desks where they had laid out a large map of New York and the North-East Coast.

Taller than everyone and with the pose of a two-thousand year-old imperial commander, Quinlan described the plan, and gave out instructions in a soft-spoken manner. His delivery, while mild still fit his assertive, almost fearsome face.

“Coordination is paramount,” he was saying, “when each of our divisions reach out to their destinations you will have to establish radio communications with the modified equipment.”

Duz saw the walkie-talkies on the desk, those same devices Lex had been working on for the past nights.

“I would feel a lot safer with one or two strigoi on my team,” said a man with a grayish brown beard and a black baseball cap, speaking with a southern twang. “You guys and your built-in radio system, not to mention lightning reflexes and all.”

Arms crossed, Lex had a piercing look at all of the humans around them and only gave his opinion once the attention was on him.

“We only have a handful to spare, and besides…” His icy stare went upon Duz. “Not everyone here is comfortable with the fact that they feed on human blood.”

Jessica scoffed and pointed a thumb towards the mess hall.

“We stacked the cold room with gallons of blood stolen from the facility. B-positive. We’re not that touchy anymore.”

Taking a shallow breath, Duz eyed Lex and then Quinlan who softly rumbled in his chest while looking back at Jessica.

“That is indeed very considerate.”

“I’m surprised,” Duz concurred, looking at the red-headed woman, “I didn’t expect you had the time to take that much with you.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “we got help from your buddy Lar. He may be smaller than you guys but he _really_ wanted to keep that blood.”

And they were stocking it in the shelter, not at the Ancients’ lair.

“Whatever works, at this point,” continued the bearded man with the black cap. “I can’t wait to get some actual soldiers on board with us. We could use new facilities and safehouses. Also start cutting into the Partnership’s firepower doesn’t hurt.”

“Remember,” Quinlan intervened, “when we make ourselves known, time will be of the essence. They will not rally our cause if it means being at war against their own. Our message will have to be spread through their communication systems first and foremost.”

“Lex is good for that,” Brenda commented, smiling dearly at him. “He’s hacked into sub-radio frequencies to recreate an actual mobile network in southern Brooklyn.”

“I’m not a hacker,” he smiled back with modesty.

Quinlan tilted his head to the side, focusing his speech back to the humans.

“We will need a spokesman,” he spoke more softly, “a human with experience with the military, someone with charisma and honor to win their hearts and minds. Take your time to decide amongst yourselves.”

A warm hand slid into his and he could feel more than he noticed the curious glances coming his way. The humans were only just registering that Gwen was among them, a clearly female strigoi. The men looked either confused or interested, while the women showed disdain or anger towards her unapologetic attractiveness.

Looking down, Duz subtly turned to have Gwen shielded by him, to circle an arm around her waist in a clear message that she was with him. She was not going to compete with anyone or disrupt anything if he could help it.

They all turned away and began discussing together about the mission. Gwen seemed to relax and laid her hooded head against his chest. The black locks of her synthetic hair fell gracefully over her pale breasts, serpent-like gray strings of the Ancient’s mark crossing over the right-hand one.

The woman named Brenda walked through the gathered group and came to them, her earnest blue eyes fixed on Gwen.

“You can stay at my place,” she murmured to them, “we had to give out all the single rooms to the survivors but… I have an extra room. For you both.”

Blinking narrow, moist eyes Gwen pressed her lips in a smile.

“Thank you, but if it's that much trouble we won't be long…”

His heart constricted when he felt her increased stress, her tense body against his own. Duz took her hand and meshed their fingers together.

“It's no trouble at all,” insisted Brenda. She was the caring mother of the children who had taken a liking to Gwen. She walked with them back towards the east hall. “Come on, people can learn to accept change. If you run away now we're not going to get anywhere.”

The children were inside and the dog was napping in the living room, perking its massive head up when they entered. It wagged its tail and stood to meet Gwen with a wide canine smile. Immediately, Gwen kneeled to give it pets and make friends with it. Duz was cautious and kept his distance.

“My kids,” Brenda introduced, “Alice and Jack.”

They stopped playing with their toys on the coffee table and looked up, waving at him.

“This is my boyfriend,” said Gwen, back at his side. “His name is Duz.”

“Sounds like a dog's name,” giggled the little girl with black hair.

Dramatically widening shocked eyes, Duz pointed at the pet.

“And what did you name your dog?”

“Roger.” She laughed again. “It's a way better name, though.”

Brenda rolled her eyes and picked up discarded shoes on the entrance floor.

“Alice, be nice. I arranged the guest room so that you can put your stuff there…” She opened the door farthest to the right, an almost normal sized living quarter. “Lex told me that strigoi were safe from the Elders down here? So I thought you'd want to use this place, occasionally.”

“The Ancients, they can't read our minds here,” Gwen nodded, approving of the room they were offered. “Thank you so much, Brenda.”

They hugged, and the woman squeezed her tightly against her.

“Oh, it's alright, sweetie. I want you to be safe, just like you kept me safe out there.”

Duz didn't know what he had to think of the two woman bonding so easily but his gut told him it was beneficial. Gwen was comfortable in her company and he felt relieved for that.

They spent time arranging the room so that they could stock their tactical equipment out of the children's reach, using the available closet and stowing their duffle bag on top of the double bunk beds. Much like their previous room, this one had a corny painting hanging on the eggshell wall, a forest this time. But here the artificial light came in from a fake window with colored drapes.

“Would you like me to put a lock on your door?” suggested Brenda. “The children can get to anything. They're easily bored.”

“That won't be necessary,” politely declined Gwen. “Everything's locked away in their containers.”

Arms crossed, the tall woman eyed them turn by turn and shifted her stance in the door frame. Duz returned a smirk at her visible discomfort.

“If it makes you feel better,” he told her, as reassuring as he could, “we'll keep a few blood packs in here just in case we get hungry.”

Making a point to acquiesce at the response, she bit her lips and nervously laughed.

“Well, that's not exactly what I meant… but that works, too.”

Gwen stared back with suspicion and then silently consulted with him. Duz shook his head and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Such a human habit he had long forgotten. It made him feel relaxed and calm.

“We won't trouble your family in any way, Brenda. It's the least we can do.”

The promise seemed satisfactory for the mother, and she left them alone again. Gwen let out a sigh through her pinched mouth.

“That wasn't weird at all.”

Duz stared at her sitting down on the lower bunk, crossing a knee over the other.

“What?” she shot at him.

He was uncontrollably smiling. “I'm your _boyfriend?”_

It was an easy word but it cheapened what he felt for her. It almost meant nothing to him.

“I don't want to complicate things,” she smirked at him.

“It's not complicated,” he replied with a slow measure, coming to sit next to her. “We just lived in different times.”

Her painted lids lowered to see his alabaster hand slide over her thigh to grab hers. She gently caught it and brought it up to her lips. Duz felt his core warming, as if he had just satiated himself. It took all of his willpower not to reach for her face and kiss her.

The children were loud when running across the apartment, shouting at each other and being distracting in general.

They arrived at their door. Gwen let go of his hand and stood to speak to them.

“Gwen, will you play with us?” the girl asked.

Her voice was soft and considerate. “Of course, but not now. We’re going to prepare for a big event soon, so we have a lot of work to do. I promise, if your mother is okay with it, we’ll play later today.”

The children’s disappointment almost made him feel bad, but they easily shrugged and went on to play in their room, next door.

Gwen looked back at him. “I know you’re about to say something...”

“No,” he said, unable to shake the idea of her being so caring with children. “We do have a lot of work ahead of us.”

His dreams of having a family was for another lifetime.

She pulled back her hood and removed the wig, thoughtfully untangling the long locks of hair.

“It’s best if we keep busy,” she then said to him. “I have to keep training if I want to be of any use in this war.”

Duz nodded several times, setting his mind onto practical activities. She needed to learn everything he knew and it was best if they got over everything as soon as possible. He needed training himself, to exercise and regain combat readiness after the assault on the Partnership.

And, above all else, he had to remind himself that Lex couldn’t transmit his emotions to him. He couldn’t let him know that something was wrong unless he reached out to him first. Despite his humble attitude Lex was a proud man, and Duz knew that he couldn’t simply ask what was going on in his head.

Duz was strigoi, but for the first time in centuries someone needed him to simply be a friend.

 


End file.
